


When I'm On The Stage... (You Shine Like the Sun)

by de_la_rae



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Dancer Minho, F/M, M/M, Mostly Fluff, ateez shall make small cameos, changbin is oblivious as fuck, dancer felix, felix has an obvious crush, if seungjeongjin aren't in this enough i'm sorry i tried, jeongin is jisung's roommate, matchmaker jisung and minho, minho is whipped, minsung for life, producer/stylist chan, rapper changbin, twice make small cameos, writer jisung
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 34,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23090317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/de_la_rae/pseuds/de_la_rae
Summary: Jisung didn't think he'd be performing tonight, but Changbin had to go and sign him up anyway. So here he is, about to go onstage for the first time in years.Minho didn't think he'd be here tonight, but Felix had to go and drag him here anyway. So here he is, about to lose his mind when someone walks onstage and his heart catches in his throat.AKA Minho sees Jisung for the first time at a Slam Poetry event and can't think about anything else except Jisung, Jisung, Jisung.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Son Chaeyoung, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Hwang Hyunjin/Kim Seungmin, Lee Felix/Seo Changbin
Comments: 64
Kudos: 264





	1. "Now get your ass out this door or I'm never buying you cheesecake again." - Seo Changbin

**Author's Note:**

> 9/19 update: edited after recent events. a character has been changed, and some scenes edited for grammar/readability.

“Please?”

Jisung doesn’t look up from his laptop screen. He knows he’s just going to see Changbin pouting in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. The combination of Changbin trying to guilt him and looking like he could beat Jisung up would be enough to get Jisung off his butt and go wherever Changbin wants to drag him today. So, he keeps his head down, focused on his homework.

“No, man,” Jisung says, highlighting a section of his online textbook and copy-pasting it into his notes document for his science class. “I’ve gotta study. My teacher’s gonna whoop my ass if I fail another exam, or worse,” he pauses for dramatic effect, “make me fail the entire class and then I’ll have to take it again next year.”

Changbin gasps, “No, she wouldn’t.” He claps his hands to his face in mock horror. “You’re too much of a goody-two-shoes for a teacher to fail you.” Jisung’s bed dips when Changbin plops down on it and disrupts Jisung’s hand trying to highlight a longer portion of the textbook. He grunts and starts over, taking this opportunity to glare at Changbin.

“Seriously though,” Jisung says, glancing over the display of his laptop. “I can’t go out tonight. I’m already failing science as it is.”

"Ugh, no fun,” Changbin whines, flopping all the way onto his back. “Anyway, I don’t understand why you’d take a science course since you’re majoring in creative writing. Especially physics. Blech,” Changbin says, sticking his tongue out.

“I like to be well rounded,” Jisung huffs. He sits up straight and his spine cracks, audible enough for Changbin to hear. “Also, I failed in high school and didn’t meet the university’s requirements, so to let me in they said I had to take the course again,” he says under his breath.

Changbin guffaws at this, clutching his knees to his stomach.

“You find my misfortune funny?” Jisung asks indignantly.

“I find your misfortune hilarious,” Changbin says between wheezes, then “ow!” after Jisung whacks him with his pillow.

“Enough out of you,” Jisung says, setting his laptop aside. He’d been sitting hunched over, cross-legged, for the past hour, pouring over his textbook and notes from labs, desperate to pass his next exam.

“Where did you wanna go, anyway?” Jisung asks, standing up and stretching his back.

Changbin’s eyes light up. “Well,” he starts, “there’s this café about a block away from campus that’s starting this new thing.” He sits up on Jisung’s bed. “It’s called ‘Slam Poetry Night,’ and tonight’s the first show,” he says, clapping his hands together.

Jisung looks at Changbin pointedly. “You mean to say you were gonna drag me away from studying for poetry?” he asks, and Changbin nods eagerly.

Jisung pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. He really should get back to studying, but he’s so sore from sitting like that, and god knows he deserves a little break for just one night.

And he wonders what it would feel like to look at a stage again.

“Fine,” Jisung says, “I’ll go.” Changbin jumps up from the bed squealing and pumps his fist.

“Knew I could get you to go!” he shouts and marches out the door of Jisung’s bedroom. He pokes his head back in the door once he realizes Jisung’s not following him.

“You wanna change out of those sweatpants, or,” Changbin says, trailing off. Jisung looks down at his ‘study outfit’: a pair of grey sweatpants and his favorite blue hoodie from high school. He looks back up at Changbin.

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, not noticing Changbin’s eyes narrowing. “We’ll just be watching anyway; I don’t have to be presentable.”

“Mmhmm,” Changbin says through tight lips. “Oh, bring your lyric book too,” he says as an afterthought, nodding toward the book on Jisung’s messy night table.

“You mean this old thing?” Jisung says, holding up the book. The binding is already starting to come apart and there are sheets of paper stuffed between the pages from when Jisung had an idea but not his book, so he’d scribbled the idea down on the nearest piece of available paper.

Changbin nods. “That’s the one,” he says.

“Why?” Jisung asks.

“You never know when you might get inspired,” Changbin says sagely. “Now get your ass out this door or I’m never buying you cheesecake again.”

***

“Please!”

Minho looks up from his phone to Felix’s eyes, which are somehow even larger now that he’s begging for something and groans.

“You are _not_ guilting me into going somewhere again,” Minho says, scrunching his eyes shut to avoid looking at Felix. “Last time that happened, I got wasted, lost you in the club and some guy had to bring both of us back to the dorm,” Minho says. He shudders at the memory, or at least, what he remembers of it.

“Okay, I’ll admit, that one was my bad,” Felix says, “but this time we won’t be going to a club, I promise!” Minho risks opening one eye to look at him. He groans again when he sees that Felix has jutted out his lower lip in a pout.

“Ugh!” Minho grunts, kicking out one leg to get Felix and his adorable methods of getting Minho to get out of the dorm away from him.

Felix lands on the floor next to Minho’s bed, pouting even more indignantly now because he’s been forced away. “Minho, you have to come!” he whines. “This café is doing a Slam Poetry Night and my friend’s friend is the one that organized it all, they worked so hard for this, and tonight’s the first night.”

Minho looks over at Felix, who’s sprawled out on the floor. “If your friend’s friend organized it, then why do I have to go?”

“Because you’re _my_ friend.”

“Oh, dear skies,” Minho groans, turning away from Felix before he starts pouting again. He unlocks his phone and swipes through all his apps, looking for something to keep him occupied. Even on YouTube, there’s nothing on his feed that piques his interest in the slightest. For the first time, social media has failed him.

“Fine,” Minho says, “I’ll go.” Felix lets out a squeal of joy and scrambles to stand up from the floor.

“Yes! I knew you’d agree to it!” Felix cheers. He looks down at Minho, still lying on his bed. “You have a soft spot for me, don’t you,” Felix teases.

Minho kicks his leg out again but misses. “You wish,” he says, but he only half means it.

When Felix transferred to Seoul University as a freshman, wide-eyed and nervous, knowing barely any Korean, Minho saw a boy struggling to achieve his dreams. Also a dance major, Felix appeared in Minho’s class later that day, a class reserved mostly for second years and above. There was only one other freshman in the class, but obviously Felix didn’t know him. Minho had watched Felix the entire class excel at the choreography the teacher set and fail to understand the corrections he was given because of the language barrier. But Minho saw him try. He saw Felix’s determination to grit his teeth and muddle through class out of pure passion. Minho respected that.

So, at the end of the class, Minho had walked up to Felix and asked for his name. Felix replied in accented Korean, and Minho offered to take him out for lunch. The two bonded over a meal of fried chicken and their love of dance, with a translating app open on Felix’s phone lying on the table. Minho vowed to teach Felix Korean, vowed to help him fit in, and most importantly, vowed to be his friend.

So, Minho smiles at Felix’s excitement and swings his legs off the bed. “When are we leaving?” he asks, standing up.

“Now,” Felix replies, already out the door of Minho’s bedroom. He pokes his head back in a second later. “On second thought, you might wanna change before we head out,” he says, giving Minho’s current fit a once-over.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” he asks, looking down at his outfit. Today was a lounge day, so his outfit consisted of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt.

“At least put on some jeans, or something,” Felix says, and pokes his head back out the door.

Minho sighs and wanders over to the chest of drawers containing his clothes. He rifles through one drawer and pulls out his favorite pair of black jeans. He shakes off his sweatpants and pulls on the jeans, struggling a bit to get them over his thighs.

 _Conditioning for dance does a hell of a lot for my legs, I guess_ , he thinks as he traipses over to the mirror on the back of his door. He tucks his shirt in and adds a belt, but the outfit still feels incomplete.

“Ah!” he says, scurrying over to his hangers and pulls out a huge fluffy blue coat and shrugs it on. “Perfect,” he mumbles, barely glancing at the mirror before grabbing a pair of small hoop earrings.

“Minho! You coming?” Felix yells from the front of the dorm room.

“Yeah, coming!” Minho shouts back, swiping his phone from his bed and stuffing that and his room key into his coat pocket.

“Finally,” Felix says as Minho shoves his feet into his shoes.

“Hey, watch it,” Minho warns. “I could bail any second now, you know.”

Felix smiles. “Yeah, but you won’t.”

Minho stands and grins back as the two leave the dorm. “Yeah, I won’t.”


	2. "Goddammit, Changbin!" - Han Jisung

Changbin drags Jisung into the café by the arm and immediately takes him to the back of the café.

“Hey, where are we going?” Jisung protests, looking back at the few empty tables set up in front of the makeshift stage. There are more people here than he would’ve thought, but not enough so that he’d have to wait in line forever to get a Frappuccino.

“Thought you’d like to see how the magic happens,” Changbin says, and shoves him through the partition set up to serve as a ‘backstage area.’ The space is tight and cramped, not just because of limited space, but because performers are huddled in every corner of the room, practicing their pieces.

Jisung’s jaw drops at the sight. So many people here, ready to perform, nervous but excited at the same time. The creative energy and need to perform flows through the area, sending a shiver up Jisung’s spine.

How long has it been since he last performed? Since he held a mic like his life depended on it?

Too long.

Changbin bumps into Jisung’s shoulder. “Pretty cool, huh?” he says, surveying the room. Jisung nods wordlessly. What he wouldn’t give to have a chance to perform tonight. He would even read his shittiest song and that would be enough. He doesn’t need the crowd to cheer, he just needs to stand on a stage again.

Too bad it’s probably too late to sign up.

“This is amazing, Changbin,” Jisung says. “But I think we should head out now. This room’s really only for performers, anyway – ”

“– There he is!”

A voice shouts from somewhere in the crowd of performers and someone makes their way through to where Jisung and Changbin are standing at the entrance of the backstage area. She's got short brown hair that doesn't even reach her shoulders and a wide smile, and also a clipboard, which makes her more official-looking.

“Han Jisung?” she asks, scratching something out on the clipboard.

Jisung nods. “Yeah, that’s me. Um,” he pauses, “who are you?” His voice pitches up at the end, a subconscious attempt to make the conversation less awkward. Changbin snorts next to him, then lets out a muffled groan when Jisung elbows him in the ribs.

“I’m Chaeyoung, nice to meet you,” she says, shaking Jisung’s hand. “And you as well,” she says to Changbin, shaking his hand too.

“Right,” Jisung says, “well, uh, how exactly do you know me?”

Chaeyoung laughs. “You’re the last performer to get here and check in,” she says, gesturing to her clipboard with a list of names on it. All but one have a checkmark next to them. “Process of elimination,” she says with the same wide smile.

“Wait,” Jisung says, holding up one hand. “Performer?”

“Yep,” Chaeyoung says, not catching Jisung’s surprised tone. “Chan’s over there, he’s our ‘acting stylist’ for the night, seeing as our last one _bailed_ on us,” she says, gritting her teeth. She regains her composure quickly while her gaze flicks over Jisung’s outfit. “You might want to go see him before going on stage, that’s just my advice,” she says, patting Jisung on the shoulder. She walks away, barking orders at some crew member who seems to be struggling with the microphone set.

Jisung turns to face Changbin after recovering from the initial shock of being told he would be performing tonight.

“Changbin,” he says calmly. Changbin gulps. “How, exactly, did I get on the list of people that are scheduled to perform tonight?”

“Um,” Changbin says intelligently. “Chan told me about it during class and I, uh,” he stutters, “I thought it’d be a fun thing for us to do.”

“Then why,” Jisung says, more menacingly this time as he grabs Changbin’s shirt, “did Chaeyoung not have your name on that list?”

“B-because I chickened out of signing up when I signed you up.”

“Goddammit, Changbin!” Jisung yells, finally letting go of him.

“I’m – I’m gonna go get a good seat,” Changbin says nervously, backing out of the backstage area before Jisung’s seething anger unleashes its unforeseen wrath on him.

Jisung takes a deep breath through his nose and blows it out his mouth. He looks down and remembers he’s still wearing his sweatpants and hoodie. Sighing, he makes his way over to where Chaeyoung said Chan, the ‘acting stylist’ would be.

“Hey,” Jisung says, tapping a guy standing in front of the lone mirror in the backstage area on the shoulder. “Are you Chan?”

The guy, blond hair partially braided on one side of his head, turns and grins at Jisung. “Yeah, sure am, mate, what can I do for you?”

“Um,” Jisung says, “I need an outfit for when I go out there and perform later. I kinda left my dorm without planning anything.”

Chan glances at Jisung’s outfit. “I can see that,” he says, and drags Jisung to a clothing rack. “Let’s see,” he hums, sifting through the hangers. He steals a quick look at Jisung again and smiles. “Oh, you’re gonna be a fun one to style,” he says, and his grin grows even wider.

Jisung’s not sure whether to be scared or excited. He decides on scared as he watches Chan paw through the clothes with a surprisingly malicious grin on his face.

When Chan tugs a royal blue suit jacket off its hanger and holds it up, Jisung backs away quickly, holding his hands up in defense.

“I – I thought this was just a poetry reading,” he says. Chan’s head rolls back and he lets out a one-syllable laugh.

“Jisung, this isn’t just some old ladies’ gathering to read poetry. This,” he says, spreading his hands out and gesturing to the entire backstage area, “is _slam_ poetry. And we take our slam seriously around here.” He pauses. “Though, I guess I’ve got to give Chaeyoung some credit for glamming this whole thing up. He’s got style, that’s for sure,” Chan says, then shrugs and turns back to the clothing rack. “That’s probably why he’s my partner.”

Jisung furrows his eyebrows in confusion at Chan. “Chaeyoung's a he?” he stammers. he cringes once the words are out of his mouth; he sounds so transphobic, like the Karens that go viral on the internet.

Chan turns his head back to Jisung and sighs heavily. It's definitely not the first time he's had to explain this. “Chaeyoung's genderfluid," he states simply. "Meaning he can be anything on the gender spectrum. Right now, he's a boy, so yeah, he/him pronouns.” Jisung nods and purses his lips when Chan finishes, and makes a mental note to get out of the habit of assuming people's gender. Chan narrows his eyes at Jisung's silence. "You don't got a problem with that, do you?" he growls. Jisung cowers under Chan’s menacing stare.

“No, not at all,” Jisung says. He clasps his hands together. “I, uh, I actually, uh, yeah, I'm... gay, so... I understand, is all,” he says in the least articulate way possible.

Chan nods. “Ah, I see, then,” he says, and struggles to wrench a pair of royal blue pants that match the suit jacket of the hanger. He holds the set up for Jisung to see and then shoves them into Jisung’s arms. “Why don’t you just change behind the rack? I’ll cover for you,” Chan says and pushes Jisung behind the rack.

Jisung sighs and looks down at the clothes in his arms. _Might as well,_ he thinks as he shuffles out of his sweatpants and hoodie.

“Um, Chan,” Jisung says, “you forgot to give me an undershirt.”

Chan laughs. “I didn’t give you one on purpose,” he says gleefully. “You’re not gonna be wearing one.”

Jisung groans and slips the jacket over his bare chest. It feels all silky and wrong against his skin with no shirt in between.

Once he’s done, he peeps out from behind the rack and taps Chan on the shoulder, who was faithfully keeping a lookout. Chan gasps when he sees Jisung.

“Oh. My. Jihyo,” he breathes and claps his hands to his mouth. “Wait right here, I’ve got the perfect finishing touch,” Chan says, and scurries away to a box with the contents spilled out near the clothing rack. He comes back with a wide belt set and secures it tightly around Jisung’s waist.

“Perfect,” he says, stepping back to admire his creation. He grabs Jisung by the shoulders and shuffles him over to stand in front of the mirror. “You like it?”

Jisung nods, too shocked for words. Besides the fact that he’s not wearing shoes, Jisung thinks he looks ready to perform for much more than a slam poetry reading. He feels the old confidence he only ever found onstage tingling in his fingertips, and he feels ready to try something new. “Hey, Chan,” Jisung says, “you got any eyeshadow?”

Chan breaks into the biggest smile. “You know I do,” and pulls a palette out from behind the mirror. Jisung smirks and closes his eyes while Chan applies the shadow to his eyelids. “Okay, you can open your eyes now,” Chan says, tapping the brush on the edge of the palate.

Jisung does, and almost jumps in surprise when he sees his face. Chan had applied a shimmery, dark red color, which popped out against the blue of the suit.

“Wow,” Jisung says.

“Wow, indeed,” Chan laments and claps Jisung on the shoulder. “Now, go put some shoes on and practice your piece.”

Jisung’s eyes widen comically. “Oh, shit!” he exclaims. “I have to pick a piece!” He tugs on the nearest pair of black boots and grabs his lyric book from where he’d abandoned it on the floor.

“Wait a second,” Chan says. “You mean to say that you don’t know what you’re performing?”

“Yep,” Jisung says, not really paying attention to Chan as he flips through the pages of his book.

“Oh boy,” Chan groans. “You better not mess this up though,” he says seriously. “Chaeyoung worked really hard to get this thing going.” Jisung looks up and sees worry and that same anger in Chan’s eyes. Jisung softens. _He just wants the best for his partner._

“Don’t worry, man,” Jisung says. “I’m the king of improv; I’ll think of something.” Chan looks slightly reassured and takes a deep breath.

“Well, if you do fuck this up, at least you’ll look hot as fuck doing it,” Chan says and walks away to tend to another performer’s outfit.

Jisung sighs and stares back at the pages of his lyric book. _Slam poetry is supposed to be impactful and hard-hitting, so I won’t go with a slow song,_ he ponders, flipping through a couple more pages. _Ah,_ he thinks, finger landing on a song he’d written not long ago. _Perfect._

***

“Minho. Minho, look. Oh my god, he’s _here!_ ” Felix squeals, fists clenched on the table in front of him.

“Who?” Minho says. He has to raise his voice so Felix can hear him over the chatter of people crowded in the café to see the slam poetry event.

“Oh, nothing, it’s just the coolest guy in the entire school!” Felix says, stealing a quick glance to his right. “He’s in my music class, though I’m sure he has no idea I even _exist_ – but could you even imagine – him knowing I exist? How cool would that be?” Felix is rambling at this point.

“What’s his name?” Minho asks, swirling the last of his coffee in the bottom of his cup.

“Changbin,” Felix says.

“Wait, you mean Seo Changbin?” Minho asks. Felix nods.

“Yeah, why? You know him?”

“Ha! ‘Course I know him! We went to high school together,” Minho says, straining to find Changbin amongst the crowd of people. That could be difficult, especially if he hasn’t grown any taller since high school. “Wonder if he remembers me,” he mumbles.

“If he does, could you introduce me?” Felix asks, widening his eyes and pouting out his lip again. “Please? I’ll clean your cats’ litter box for a week if you do, please?”

Minho takes one look at Felix and rolls his eyes, though his offer to clean the kitty litter is enticing. “Fine,” he says, “I’ll introduce you if he ever shows his face around here.”

“Minho? That you?”

A voice startles Felix from behind and he jumps in surprise and promptly falls out of his chair, spilling his coffee everywhere.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he says, grabbing a wad of napkins from the table and starts wiping the person’s shoes. “I really didn’t mean to, I just got scared.”

“Then I guess it’s my fault for scaring you,” the owner of the voice says. Minho smirks from his seat as Felix looks up and blushes furiously.

“Hey, Changbin, long time no see, huh,” Minho says, taking the last sip of his coffee. Changbin glances at him as he helps Felix up from the floor.

“Yeah, man. How’ve you been? Still dancing?” Changbin says, taking a seat at the table next to Felix, which makes Felix’s face turn redder than it was before.

Minho nods. “Yep, still am. In fact,” he says, laying a hand on Felix’s shoulder, who jumps again at the contact. “this little guy right here is taking dance classes with me. He’s a year younger than us, though,” Minho says. “His name’s Felix.”

“What’s up, Felix? Nice to meet you,” Changbin says, extending a hand across the table. Felix reaches out a shaky hand and grasps Changbin’s.

“I’m doing good, nice to meet you too,” he says, voice much softer than normal.

“Dude, if you’re still hung up about spilling coffee on me, just know that everything I wear is black and nothing’s gonna stain,” Changbin says, trying to reassure Felix. “It’s no big deal, really.”

Felix seems to brighten up. “Okay, sorry. I mean, yeah, good planning on your part, I guess,” Felix says, trying to shut himself up before he starts rambling.

Changbin smiles at him, clearly amused. Minho smirks as he watches the exchange. It’s painfully obvious Felix has a crush on Changbin, it was obvious to Minho since he started talking about him, but Changbin’s so dense, Felix might have to drill into his skull to get him to realize he’s got feelings for him.

“So, Changbin,” Minho says, diverting the conversation. Felix says a silent thank you through his eyes. “What’re you doing here on a Tuesday night? You into slam?”

“Well, kinda,” Changbin says, rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I was gonna sign up when I heard from this guy in my advanced music class about an event his boyfriend was putting together. I was gonna sign both me and my friend up, but I uh,” he pauses, “I chickened out at the last second while I was signing us up, so I’m not performing. But I kinda forgot to tell him until tonight that he’s performing.” Changbin stops. “I actually didn’t tell him, the guy organizing this told him when he signed him in backstage,” Changbin says, jerking a thumb in the direction of the giant black curtain.

“But your writing is really good for songs and stuff,” Felix says, interjecting himself into the conversation. “You totally could’ve performed tonight.”

Changbin shakes his head. “Nah, I’m no good without a beat, I lose the flow and the rhythm without it,” he says, dejected. Felix reaches out a hand and pats Changbin’s shoulder. Changbin smiles weakly at him. “Thanks. But Jisung, though,” he says, “Jisung is a lyrical genius. Half of the stuff he comes up with should be framed where everyone can see it, it’s so good. But no, he keeps all his writing hidden in this old book that’s completely falling apart.”

“And he’s performing tonight?” Minho asks, suddenly interested in Changbin’s friend. He’d never heard Changbin speak so highly of someone before, especially when it comes to songwriting.

Changbin nods. “Yep, probably towards the end of the event, since he got here late anyway,” he says, looking worried. “I hope he picked what he’s gonna read, though. He can be pretty selective, especially for events like this.”

“Wait, so he doesn’t know what he’s performing?” Felix asks, nervous for Jisung, even though he’d never met him.

“He’s probably got it figured out already. I believe in him.”

Minho nods. “I hope you’re right.”


	3. "Minho, sir your ass back down, I can't see!" - Lee Felix

“Jisung, you’re on act after next, okay?” Chaeyoung says from the curtain opening. Jisung nods from the corner he’d been practicing in.

“Okay, thanks Chaeyoung,” he says, turning back to his book. He skims the lines on the page one last time before snapping the book closed and setting it down next to the box he’d been sitting on. He walks over to the curtain to stand next to Chaeyoung and the guy about to perform.

The café erupts in cheers as the girl finishes her piece, something about feeling like she was never good enough for the standards of society. Jisung claps softly. He hadn’t heard most of her poem because he was focusing on the sinking feeling in his stomach that made him want to throw up.

Chaeyoung opens the curtain for the girl, who’s met with another round of applause from the rest of the performers. Jisung smiles as she gets enveloped in a big group hug. Thinking about being crushed by fellow performers when he’s finished eases the feeling in his stomach.

The girl that had just finished tears herself away from the performers and comes up to Jisung. She rests a hand on his arm and says, “Don’t worry, man, you’re gonna do great,” with a smile. Jisung smiles softly back at her.

“Thanks,” he says.

“This is slam,” she says. “Really give it to ‘em out there.”

Jisung let out a nervous laugh. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll try.”

“Make me proud, squirrel boy!” she says, walking away. “Make us all proud!”

Jisung smiles at the nickname, and the feeling in his stomach dissipates.

“You’re up,” Chaeyoung says, pulling back the curtain for the guy right before him.

“Right,” Jisung says, squaring his shoulders. He walks out from the curtain and climbs up onto the stage, which was really more of a podium with an adjustable mic stand.

Jisung expertly adjusts the mic and looks out into the crowd. It’s smaller than some crowds he’s performed in front of before. He scans the tables in the dark for Changbin, hoping his friend didn’t abandon him.

He spots Changbin at a table towards the back of the room, waving frantically at Jisung and pointing him out to the other two sitting at the table.

One of them is a blond, freckled boy who looks at Jisung in awe with shining eyes, like he’s about to say “I have a dream.” The other guy at Changbin’s table sits like he doesn’t have a care in the world, except his face gives it away. He’s waiting, watching, _wanting_ Jisung to say something.

So, Jisung takes a breath.

And speaks.

***

“That’s him! That’s Jisung right there!” Changbin says, waving his arms about. Minho looks up from his phone, which had been occupying him for most of the performances, and gasps.

The guy walking up to the mic silences the room just by stepping onto the stage, and Minho sees why. He’s dressed in a suit that’s the most perfect shade of royal blue, tanned skin peeking out from the gap at the top of the jacket. He blinks once he steps up to the mic and Minho catches a flicker of red around his eyes.

“Is he wearing eyeshadow?” Changbin says, squinting at Jisung.

Minho nods, breathless. “Yeah, I think he is.”

“Hmph,” Changbin pouts, “he never lets _me_ put eyeshadow on him.”

Felix giggles and rests his chin in his hands. “But, you’ve gotta admit, he looks hella good,” Felix says, eyes shining. Minho rolls his eyes and turns back to the stage. Looks like Felix has found a new role model.

Jisung reaches one hand up to hold the mic and Minho’s breath catches in his throat. Jisung’s eyes flit over the crowd and stop around their table. Changbin breaks into the biggest grin when his eyes meet Jisung’s, and he flashes his friend two thumbs up.

Jisung’s eyes rake briefly over Felix and Minho hears Felix sigh beside him. Minho knows why. Like Felix said before: Jisung looks hella good.

Time stops when Jisung meets Minho’s gaze. Minho tries to look as nonchalant as possible as Jisung stares at him, his gaze on fire thanks to the eyeshadow. Jisung’s eyebrow quirks and Minho smirks. Jisung looks confused for a second before regaining his confidence. Minho stays indifferent on the outside, but internally he’s proud to have made Jisung flustered. It feels good to have that power over Jisung. He seems like this unstoppable force, especially when he’s standing onstage in that fucking suit and blazing eyeshadow, even though Minho’s only known of his existence for about half an hour.

Jisung takes a deep breath and brings his other hand up to hold the mic. Minho breathes, waiting for words to roll off Jisung’s tongue. 

_“_ _Throwback to the black nights that I used to devour_

_When I told myself the world would keep spinning_

_That it would wait up for me._

_But I guess I was wrong ‘cause_

_The sun rises in the morning_

_A reminder that the world goes on without me knowing.”_

Jisung’s first verse resonates with the crowd, even though his voice is slightly shaky. The subtle snapping from the front is perfectly timed with Minho’s heartbeat. Jisung pauses when he hears the crowd snap and smirks. Watching Jisung get more confident as he keeps going makes a smile appear on Minho’s face.

Jisung continues.

_“Now I carry the sun’s crimson light_

_A reminder that I can’t stop time, and_

_Rewind the clocks_

_So that I can have another day to be myself._

_The cold dawn on the wall_

_Shows a lonely moon and covers my face_

_As if it was coloring me black_

_Forever marking me as one who can’t_

_Accept the past, live in the present and look towards the future.”_

Now Jisung’s voice accents certain sounds and syllables, making the poem harsher sounding.

“He’s starting to rap,” Changbin mumbles from across the table. He looks both confused and concerned.

“Is that bad?” Minho whispers, leaning over the table towards Changbin.

Changbin shakes his head. “No, not necessarily,” he says, “but this would be the first time he’s rapped since high school.”

“What happened?” Minho asks.

“He gave it up.”

“Minho, sit your ass back down, I can’t see!” Felix whisper-shouts, tugging on Minho’s jacket. Minho grumbles and reluctantly slumps back down in his seat.

Jisung plows forward, speaking faster. He removes the mic from the stand and starts walking around the stage. Minho’s chest burns. How can someone look so fine just walking?

" _The inside of my mind burns and fills up with question marks that blame me_

_Why am I wrong? How can I fix me?_

_Now I run for an answer that I cannot see_

_Through the darkness I’ve created in my mind_

_Now I’ve got running on my mind_

_And I'm running in my mind_

_Like it’s a maze of memories.”_

The crowd starts clapping to the beat of Jisung’s poem, which definitely falls into the rap category now, and he uses the hand not holding the mic to his mouth to hype up the crowd, motioning for them to keep clapping.

Minho’s heart thuds against his ribs, so he gives in and claps his hands together, eyes following Jisung as he saunters on the stage.

Jisung’s on fire. He found the flow a couple of verses ago, but he’s solidified the rhythm now and the words seem like a river breaking a dam.

Minho clenches his hands in his lap so he has something to concentrate on, or Jisung and his words and his confidence might take his mind to a place he doesn’t want to go to right now.

_"But instead of finding a key to the future_

_I unlock the door to my past._

_And I’m finally face to face with it_

_But it’s like looking in a mirror._

_Staring my past in the eye I can see_

_That I haven’t changed._

_I’m still the same while the world rages around me_

_The fires rampage our lands_

_And the sea overflows with a boiling anger_

_The very air we breathe tries to strangle us_

_And the thunderous waves that rage_

_Destroy the maze of memories I wanna see.”_

Jisung locks eyes with Minho when he spits ‘I wanna see’ out of his mouth. Combined with the fire he was spitting earlier and his fucking outfit and fucking eyeshadow and the intensity radiating from his eyes as he looks at Minho, Minho blushes.

Minho’s face flushes pink from his cheeks to his neck, and he covers his mouth with his hand. Jisung’s eyebrow quirks up again, this time confused by Minho’s embarrassment, then smirks. Minho almost screams as Jisung’s smirk is replaced by a large smile. Because of course he’s just as adorable as he is hot.

Jisung attaches the mic back to the stand and waves at the audience, bowing and thanking them. Changbin stands up and whistles with his fingers, and Felix stands up too, screaming Jisung’s name. Minho rolls his eyes at his friends, then stands up too when Felix tugs on his arm.

The audience applauds until Jisung disappears behind the curtain to the backstage area. After they lose sight of him, Changbin, Felix and Minho sit down again.

“Wow,” Felix says, eyes wide. “Jisung’s amazing, isn’t he?” Felix looks at Changbin for confirmation.

“Yeah,” Changbin agrees, nodding. “If I can remember what he was like in high school correctly, then I think he’s still got it.” He pauses. “I wonder if he’ll consider taking it up again after this,” he says, mostly to himself.

Minho doesn’t respond, he leaves the talking to Felix and Changbin. He sits in his chair, still as a statue, replaying Jisung’s performance in his head. When he remembers the end, how Jisung looked him in the eyes as he said the last line, his heart starts thumping again.

 _I don’t even know the guy,_ Minho thinks. _Why does even just the thought of him make me blush?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, jisung's poem is based on maze of memories, except i kinda took the lyrics and ran with it


	4. Chapter 4

“Well, Jisung, you done made us proud,” Chan says, enveloping Jisung into a hug after he’d been released from a big group hug from the other performers.

Jisung grins. “Thanks, Chan.” He sits down and takes off the boots he borrowed for his outfit. “I’m gonna go change,” he says, grabbing the clothes he came in. “Keep watch for me?”

Chan nods. “Sure.”

Jisung changes out of the suit. He didn’t think taking the suit off would make the performance feel any less real, but he was wrong. He holds the jacket in his hands and fingers the material. Why couldn’t the jacket give any of the confidence he had while wearing it to him after he took it off? Jisung sighs and pulls on his sweatpants and hoodie and steps out from behind the rack.

“Here,” Jisung says, holding out the suit and belt set to Chan. “You should take these back.”

Chan grins and shakes his head. “Nah, you can keep ‘em,” Chan says, looking from the clothes to Jisung. “I have a feeling you’ll find a use for ‘em sooner rather than later.” He winks and directs Jisung to the curtain. “Now, go find your friend. He’s gonna be right proud of you, you know.”

Jisung nods. “Thanks, Chan." He gives him a one-armed hug. “See you around, then.”

“See you, mate.”

Jisung steps out from the curtain and fans descend upon him like vultures, except, much better looking than vultures.

“Dude, that was legendary – ”

“Did you hear him?”

“That was fire, that was – ”

“But he looked so hot – ”

Jisung clutches the clothes Chan gave him to his chest in an attempt to make himself smaller and disappear. For all the confidence he might’ve displayed onstage, Jisung wasn’t exactly the best in social situations, and crowds are among his Top Ten Worst Situations to Be In. Mobs are in the top five, and this is starting to feel a lot like a mob.

“Hey, let him be! Let him through!”

Jisung whips his head to the left and spots Changbin fighting his way through the crowd towards Jisung. When he reaches Jisung, he latches onto one of his arms and drags him back through the crowd, Jisung closing his eyes. Changbin pulls him out of the café and into the cool night air.

“That looked like a paparazzi mob in there, you okay, dude?” someone asks, and Jisung opens his eyes. It’s the blond boy that was sitting next to Changbin. He looks worried, but his eyes still hold great respect for Jisung.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Jisung says. “I’m just, not that great with people.”

“You seemed fine onstage,” another voice says. Jisung turns to the voice and sees the other guy that was sitting with Changbin. The guy Jisung couldn’t stop thinking about his entire performance because he couldn’t get that fucking pretty face out of his head.

“I don’t know what that was,” Jisung says honestly. “I felt like I became a different person when I stepped onstage. It might’ve been this too,” he says, presenting the suit for the others to see.

“Whoa,” Changbin says. “Chaeyoung let you keep that?” He reaches out a hand to touch it. It’s one of the nicest pieces of clothing he’s seen.

“Actually, his boyfriend did,” Jisung says. “The stylist,” Jisung clarifies when the others look at him funny.

“I can’t believe you let him put eyeshadow on you,” Changbin whines, looking at Jisung’s eyes. Jisung realizes he didn’t get Chan to take it off.

“Well, it was for a special occasion,” Jisung says defensively. “Besides, I don’t trust you to not stab me in the eye with the brush.” Changbin crosses his arms and pouts. Jisung notices the boy with blond hair and freckles blush when he looks at Changbin’s arms. Jisung stows that away in the corner of his mind.

“It looks good on you,” the other boy says quietly, so much so that Jisung almost didn’t hear him. Almost.

“Thanks,” Jisung replies equally quietly and looks at his scuffed shoes.

“Oh, I forgot you don’t know each other,” Changbin says, just now picking up on the awkward atmosphere. “Jisung, this is Felix,” he says, pointing at the blond boy with freckles. Felix waves at Jisung shyly. Jisung nods at him and Felix grins.

“And this,” Changbin says, gesturing to the other guy, “is Minho.”

Minho looks at Jisung, brown eyes staring deep into his own.

“Hi,” Minho says, holding out one hand.

Jisung grins and meets Minho’s hand. “Hi, Minho.” Minho breaks into a grin when Jisung says his name, eyes smiling with his lips. Jisung spends the five seconds of their handshake trying to ingrain Minho’s face into his brain. He notices the soft color of Minho’s eyes, the lines of his lips, his fluffy hair and adorable nose. But his smile, oh god his _smile._

Never has Jisung seen a smile as stunning as Minho’s.

He’s going to melt on the spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm pretty sure you all know which outfit jisung was wearing (hint: it's the show! music core stage from 'double knot')  
> also, minho's wearing his iconic fluffy blue coat because i fricken want one of those and he looks adorable in it


	5. "I swear on my cats' lives that I would." - Lee Minho

“Minho?”

Minho turns his head and sees Felix leaning on the doorframe of his bedroom. “Yeah, what?” he says, turning back to his book.

"Can I give Jisung your number?”

Minho chokes on the breath he’s taking. He disguises it as a cough as Felix raises an eyebrow. “Um,” Minho says, sticking a bookmark in and nabbing his phone off the bed, “why? Is he asking for it?”

Felix nods. “Yeah, he said he didn’t get a chance to talk to you much after the poetry thing,” he says, settling into his default rambling mode. “And he said Changbin doesn’t have your new number and he doesn’t know what classes you take or where to find you, so he texted me to ask you.”

“And why do you have his number?” Minho asks, his voice strangely strangled. He scrunches his eyebrows, confused with himself. Does it bother him that Felix has been talking to Jisung, and he hasn’t?

“I asked him for it after the slam,” Felix says defensively. He seems to have picked up on Minho’s tone but doesn’t realize that Minho’s just as confused as he is. “I wanted to get to know him better, he seemed like a cool guy. And he really is, though,” Felix says thoughtfully, tilting his head. “He’s more than a god of words in that blue suit, you know,” he says, looking directly at Minho.

Minho rolls his eyes. “Don’t start with me,” he says, pointing one finger at him. Felix giggles and holds his hands up, and Minho chuckles and drops his hand. “Fine, you can give him my number,” Minho says. “But don’t tell him I agreed that he looked like a sexy god in that suit!”

“I never said sexy, Minho,” Felix says, grinning evilly. Minho realizes his mistake as Felix pushes off the doorframe and walks away. “Those are your words, not mine!”

“Ugh!” Minho groans. “The little – ” he sighs and rolls over on his bed onto his back, looking up at the ceiling. He supposes he did think Jisung was sexy – he thought about it that night when he went home. He closes his eyes and indulges himself in thinking about Jisung spitting straight fire onstage, his hand holding the mic right up to his mouth.

He smiles as he remembers the socially awkward guy Changbin dragged out of the café, the only remnants of the performer chock full of charisma was the eyeshadow on his lids, a bright, shining red against his tan skin and blue hoodie. He remembers shaking Jisung’s hand and smiling, a tinge of pink creeping up his cheeks when Jisung smiled back. Minho sighs. There was no way he’d even thought about getting Jisung’s number, not when the grin that wouldn’t leave Jisung’s face sent his heart cartwheeling in his ribcage.

Minho snaps out of his lovely reverie when his phone dings. He sighs and reaches for his phone lying next to him on the bed and holds it up to his face.

_Unknown Number: hey minho, it’s jisung. felix gave me ur number. hope that’s ok with u!_

Minho grins at Jisung’s text. He replies within the next five seconds.

_Minho: hey, jisung! thanks for asking felix. i totally forgot to ask for ur number that night._

_Jisung: no prob, man. hey, wanna hang out later? my roommate’s not here_

Minho’s throat closes up. Jisung’s roommate is gone, and he wants Minho to come over? He tries to breathe evenly, fingers shaking as he types out his response.

_Minho: sure, i’ll come by after practice at like 2? where’s ur dorm?_

Jisung sends his dorm number and Minho grins like an idiot. He’s still grinning when he comes out of his room with his dance bag and yells at Felix that they’re going to be late if he doesn’t hurry up.

“I’m coming!” Felix shouts, footsteps pounding as he runs from his room to tug his shoes on. When he’s ready to head out the door, he glances up at Minho and frowns. “What’re you looking so happy for?” he asks, poking Minho’s cheek.

Minho swats his hand away and says, “None of your business, now get your ass out the door.”

Felix grins cheekily and flounces out of the room and locks the door behind them. He looks at Minho over his shoulder, and his grin looks evil now. “It’s Jisung, isn’t it?” he says, raising an eyebrow.

Minho snorts and hits Felix on the arm. “I said none of your business, you little mosquito,” he says and rolls his eyes as he wraps an arm around Felix’s shoulders. Felix pesters him with questions as they walk to dance practice. Minho, for once, doesn’t mind Felix’s incessant jabbering. After all, he’s got something to look forward to after practice is over.

***

Jisung sends his roommate to his cousin’s dorm around two in the afternoon, wanting the dorm to himself when Minho comes over. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to contain himself with Minho in his room, with his smell and his presence and his fucking smile in his room. So he tells Jeongin to go give his cousin a visit, just so he doesn’t have to show how weak Minho makes him.

Of course, he’s riddled with anxiety up until the moment a knock sounds on the door, making him jump from his chair. He calms his beating heart by telling himself it’s just Minho and not a serial killer, but that only increases the tempo of his heartbeat.

He shuffles to the door and opens it, finding a smiling Minho, dressed in simple athletic sweatshirt and sweatpants. His hair looks slightly damp and it’s swept off his forehead. Jisung’s eyes go straight to Minho’s lips, his signature grin and smiling eyes seeming to grow when Jisung had opened the door.

“Sorry, I came straight from dance,” Minho says apologetically, swiping his fingers through his hair. “Didn’t have time to shower, so I just toweled off.” He looks embarrassed, hands swinging by his sides.

Jisung shakes his head. “Nah, it’s all good, uh, come on in, I guess,” he steps aside to let Minho in, who drops his bag on the floor and steps out of his shoes.

“What kind of dance do you do?” Jisung asks, prodding Minho’s bag with one foot.

“Oh, our crew does a lot of styles, but I specialize in hip-hop mostly,” Minho says, looking at Jisung thoughtfully. “Except ballet. I could never pull off ballet,” he adds, laughing at himself.

Jisung laughs along with him. “That’s understandable though,” Jisung says, “since ballet dancers train for like five years before they’re even considered to be at an intermediate level.”

Minho arches an eyebrow. “You seem to be an expert on this,” he says. “Do you dance?”

Jisung sighs. “I used to,” he admits. “I used to do a lot of things.”

"Really?” Minho says, making himself comfortable on the couch Jisung and Jeongin had lugged up three flights of stairs when they first moved in. “What did you do?”

Jisung flops onto the couch across from Minho. “Oh, you know, rap, singing, dancing, I kinda did it all,” he says, smiling to himself.

“That sounds awesome,” Minho says. “Were you at a school for performing arts, or something?”

Jisung nods. “The one in Seoul, actually,” he says. “I was there since I was ten.” He huffs out a breath. “I really thought I was gonna go into a career in performing.” He chuckles and shakes his head at his naïve younger self.

Minho is quiet. Jisung looks over and sees Minho curled up with his knees almost touching his chin and his arms huddled close to him. Finally, he speaks. “Why’d you give it up?”

Jisung doesn’t say anything. There are a lot of reasons why he gave up his one true passion. One was school; he would prioritize song-writing over essay writing and then got behind in his classes. another was his family, who’d never really supported his dream of being an entertainer, claiming that he wouldn’t be able to stick with it, that he wouldn’t be able to make it.

The third reason was Jisung thought he didn’t have what it took. After many years of training and putting his heart into his music and dancing and writing and not getting anything out of it except an awful transcript and a bad relationship with his parents, Jisung left the Performing Arts Academy his senior year of high school and forced himself to study and get good grades. Changbin, his only friend at the Academy, was worried about him, worried that he wouldn’t be able to function without a creative outlet, so he bought him a book where Jisung could write all the lyrics in the world. Jisung remembers crying in his room when Changbin brought him that book. He cried because he didn’t think anyone would care that he left and because he was thankful that someone wasn’t going to let him give up on his dream.

Jisung blinks a couple of times before being lurched back to the present. Minho’s looking at him, one eyebrow raised and concern darting across his face.

“Jisung? You okay?” Minho says, reaching over and shaking Jisung’s arm.

Jisung shakes his head. “Yeah, I’m fine, just,” he pauses, “thinking, I guess.” He sighs and tucks his feet underneath him on the couch.

“So,” Minho says, drawing out the word, “why did you give it up? Seems like you enjoyed it. And you’re good too, if the poetry night says anything about your talent.” He looks at Jisung with a stare that says ‘it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me’ but Jisung knows that he could never keep the truth from Minho, especially when he’s looking at him like that, when he’s sitting so close, so close their bodies are almost pressed together.

Jisung nudges Minho’s leg with his toe and scoots closer to him. Minho doesn’t back away when Jisung comes closer, so he shuffles his way over so that their shoulders are touching.

"I think school and my parents were both big reasons why I left the Academy,” Jisung says, eyes flitting to look at Minho next to him. Minho looks at him and listens like Jisung is the only one in the world. Jisung almost blushes, but he forces the pink creeping up his cheeks back down. “But there was something else too,” he says, hanging his head.

He doesn’t want to admit to Minho that he gave up on his dream, not because of some outside force, but because he decided to. Minho seems to be pursuing his dream as a dancer, after all, he’s already in a crew of his own. Admitting that dropping out was his own choice to Minho would show that he’s weak, that he doesn’t have what it takes to make his dream come true.

“Oh yeah?” Minho says, still looking at Jisung. “What was it?”

“Me.”

Confusion is written all over Minho’s face. “You?”

Jisung nods. “I didn’t think I had what it took,” he says. “I’d been training for seven years, working my ass off, and for what? I got nothing to show for my time there except horrible grades and a strained relationship with my parents.” He takes a few deep breaths; he can feel anger boiling inside at the thought of his crushed dream. “So I took it upon myself to leave there and study for my last year of high school so I could at least go to college.” He rests his head on Minho’s shoulder. “That night at the slam, that was the first time I’d performed for a crowd in two years.”

Jisung feels Minho’s arms wrap themselves around his waist, pulling Jisung closer so he can comfort him. “I can’t even imagine what it would be like to stop everything like you did,” Minho says. “I mean, that’d be like me not dancing for two years. I start losing my mind if I don’t dance for two days,” he says and giggles, shaking Jisung’s head on his shoulder. Jisung cracks a small smile.

Minho looks back at Jisung. “It was really brave of you to make that choice, you know,” he says. “But if it makes you feel any better, I think your performance at the slam was incredible. If you were a rapper, I’d definitely come to watch all your stages.”

Jisung smirks. “Oh, really?” he says, a teasing tone in his voice.

Minho nods. “I swear on my cats’ lives that I would.”

Jisung laughs. “Alright, then, I guess I’ll have to put that to the test,” he says, the words coming out of his mouth completely unfiltered. His eyes grow wide with shock when he realizes what he said.

Minho doesn’t say anything as he processes what Jisung said. “You mean that, if I heard correctly,” Minho says, “you’re thinking about performing? For real? Like, as a rapper?”

Jisung considers it and nods his head slowly. “I’ve always wanted to be in a rap group,” he admits, playing with his fingers. “I know Changbin would do it with me… maybe someone else from his advanced music production class too.”

Minho’s lips start to spread into a grin. “Looks like you’ve got this figured out,” he says.

“Yeah, I guess I do,” Jisung says, rolling the idea around in his head. “Man, it’s been too long since I performed. You know what it’s like up there, right? Being onstage?” Jisung asks Minho. “You know, that rush, the pulse of creativity, the support of the crowd, it’s just – ” Jisung falters, trying to put into words what he feels onstage. “It’s like… when I'm up there, I feel like I can – ”

“ – Take on the world,” Minho finishes. Jisung positively glows, he radiates like the sun when he finds that Minho understands the rush of performing. Jisung breaks into a grin and Minho flashes his smile. Jisung, out of pure excitement, wraps his arms around Minho and envelops him in the biggest hug he can muster.

“Thanks, Minho,” Jisung says, pulling away. He stands up from the couch and goes to put his shoes on, not noticing the obvious tinge of pink on Minho’s cheeks.

“You – you’re welcome,” Minho says, breathless and confused. “Where are you going?” he asks, looking over the back of the couch at Jisung, who’s got his jacket and shoes on, phone in hand.

“To find Changbin,” he says, opening the door, “to tell him it’s time to make some music.”

With that, Jisung shuts the door, leaving Minho, red-faced and heart beating, alone in the dorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the start of the actual story!   
> also my school got closed because of corona so i will be writing a lot probably   
> does anyone have any skz song suggestions i could make into a cool poem for a future performance of jisung's?


	6. "You had me thinking you liked me for a second there." Han Jisung

Changbin’s third-wheeling with Chaeyoung and Chan when Jisung finds him in the cafeteria. Changbin looks bored out of his mind and jumps up from his seat when he sees Jisung walk through the doors.

“Thank god you came, man,” Changbin says, grabbing onto Jisung’s arm. “I can’t stand these two anymore, please get me out of here.”

Jisung laughs. “Not so fast. Remember, your misfortune is my happiness,” he jokes, saying what Changbin told him the night of the slam. Changbin looks taken aback by the role reversal and slumps back down in his seat, arms crossed and pouting.

“Anyway, I’ve got something to tell you,” Jisung says, sliding into a seat across from Changbin. He turns to Chaeyoung before he starts and asks, "By the way, what pronouns are you using today?"

Chaeyoung breaks into a wide smile at Jisung's question. "She/her for today," she says. "Thanks for asking. Now," she leans on the table with her elbows, "what's the thing you came all the way down here to tell us?" Chan scoots closer to Jisung to listen in.

“Is it about Minho?” Changbin asks eagerly.

Jisung frowns. “No, why would you say that?” Jisung thinks of Minho’s lovely smile and shakes his head. “You know what, never mind. What I came to say was that I'm ready to start making music again.”

Changbin is silent at the news. Chaeyoung looks confused and Chan’s eyebrows rise up on his forehead. “Wow, Jisung,” Changbin says. “That’s a big decision, are you sure you’re okay?”

Jisung smiles at Changbin’s concern. “Yeah. Actually, Minho and I talked it out, I told him everything, and he got me to realize that my dream isn’t worth giving up on just yet.” A warm feeling floats around his chest as he thinks back on his and Minho’s conversation. “Anyway, I wanted to ask if you’d do this whole performing thing with me. I don’t think I’ll be able to do this alone.”

Changbin nods, considering. “Hmm,” he says. “Should I form a rap group with my best friend and finally make our dreams come true, or should I tough it out in college and try to get a producing gig for a D-list studio?” Jisung stifles a giggle as he watches Changbin draw out his decision. Changbin throws his hands up in the air. “Ah, what the heck. Of course I’ll do it, bro.”

“Yeah! Bring it in man!” Jisung says and he and Changbin stand up and bro-hug each other. Then they go into an elaborate handshake, ending with the ‘Woah’ and collapsing into a fit of laughter.

“Hey, I want in too,” Chan says, tapping Jisung on the shoulder.

Jisung looks at him, confused. “You want in? You do music?” he asks.

Chan nods. “I’m Changbin’s friend from his advanced music production class. Don’t know if he’s ever mentioned me to you, by name at least,” Chan says, looking pointedly at Changbin, who looks everywhere but at Chan.

“You seem to have a habit of not telling your friends about important things,” Chaeyoung interjects, laying an arm around Chan’s shoulders protectively.

“It never came up,” Changbin says softly. Chaeyoung snorts and Chan tells her to stop being so high and mighty.

“Not everyone can be as successful as you before they’re out of college,” Chan says.

“Wait, Chaeyoung,” Jisung says, looking right at her. “You organized the slam thing, right?” Chaeyoung nods and smiles, proud to be remembered for such a feat. “Do you think, once me and Changbin and Chan get our group going, you could organize a stage for us? So we could showcase our music?”

“Yeah, that’d be awesome, babe, please?” Chan says, looking into his partner’s eyes lovingly. Changbin doesn’t say anything, afraid to aggravate Chaeyoung anymore.

Chaeyoung rolls her eyes. “I suppose I could get you guys a performance time at the same café,” she says. “But I want some proof that y’all are actually going to go through with this, so I’m going to need a demo.”

Jisung nods, becoming more energized as his dream is finally within his reach. He can almost touch it. “Of course, Chaeyoung,” he says, reaching out his hand to shake hers. “We won’t let you down.”

Chaeyoung smiles and meets Jisung’s hand. “It’s not me you’ll let down if you don’t do this. Just, this is going to sound sappy but, follow your heart.” She looks Jisung in the eyes as she says this.

Jisung nods, taking the weight of Chaeyoung’s words seriously. _I won’t let myself down again._

***

Minho hates when rehearsal runs overtime.

Which happens a lot when you have a perfectionist of a director and not a lot of time until opening night. So, at five-thirty on a Friday, he finds himself dripping with sweat, about to run the same ten seconds of their most challenging piece for what must be the thousandth time that day.

“Five and six, seven and eight!” Director Jung barks from the front of the room. Minho dares a glance in his direction. Director Jung has his back to the floor-to-ceiling mirror spanning the length of the wall and a death glare on his face. Minho averts his eyes immediately and goes back to counting, waiting for his cue.

 _One, two._ He dashes out along with five other dancers and hurries into position, forming a circle around the principle dancers in the center. He holds for eight counts after a big swell from the circle timed perfectly with a lift from the principles.

“Hyunjin, I better not catch you scratching your nose!” Director Jung shouts, earning an ‘eep’ from Hyunjin’s direction. Minho dares another glance at Director Jung and sees him looking slightly less mad than the last time they ran the piece, even though he’d just caught Hyunjin scratching his nose. Minho’s about to look away when he sees something in the mirror. No, someone.

Jisung.

He closes the door behind him and tiptoes to one of the benches on the side of the studio, gingerly stepping over all the dancers’ bags have been littered on the floor, kicked aside so they have room to dance. Minho’s eyes follow Jisung as he finds Minho’s bag and sits on the bench behind it. Once Jisung sits down, his eyes meet Minho’s in the mirror, and Minho nearly falls to the floor.

“Minho! Move your ass, I thought you knew the counts!” Minho jerks his gaze away from Jisung when Director Jung shouts at him. He scrambles away to the next position, hoping he didn’t ruin everyone’s chances of going home after this run.

After the music stops, Director Jung sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “There’s no use in running you guys anymore since you’re all exhausted,” he says, sounding gentler than he has all week. “But opening night is in three weeks, just remember that. So, rest up tomorrow, ice and eat some food and all that, and I’ll see you guys on Sunday, alright?”

Everyone nods and thanks Director Jung for rehearsal before making their way to their bags and collapsing with a water bottle in hand.

“Minho,” Director Jung says once everyone heads to get water. Minho stands with his hands behind his back. “I expect more from you,” he says, his stare drilling deep into Minho’s eyes. “I’d like to see that work ethic next time, okay?” Minho nods and thanks Director Jung, who gives him a clap on the shoulder.

Minho sighs as he drags his feet over to his bag. They feel like bricks, and his legs scream when he moves them. They give out right in front of his bag.

A water bottle is thrust into his face. “Water?” Minho looks up and sees Jisung holding out his water bottle. He looks concerned, even though an encouraging smile shows on his lips.

“Thanks,” Minho says, accepting the bottle and drinks for a solid fifteen seconds. He looks back at Jisung. “Why are you here?” It comes out slightly rude, and Minho inwardly cringes at himself.

“Oh,” Jisung says, head hanging when he hears Minho’s tone. “I was, uh, in the area, and I, well, I wanted to see you dance.”

“Hey, Jisung, don’t feel bad, I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m just tired, is all.” He sighs and takes another sip of water. “You hungry?”

Jisung perks up at the mention of food. Minho smiles and packs up his bag. He stands up and stretches. “I don’t have that much money on me, so –”

“– Convenience store?” Jisung says, eyes sparkling as he stands up from the bench.

Minho grins even wider. “Convenience store.”

***

“So,” Jisung says. He cradles his cup of ramen in his hands, warming them up. After buying snacks from the convenience store, Minho and Jisung had sat down on the curb in front of the store to eat their food. They’d been sitting for so long the fiery pink sky had been extinguished and swallowed by the night, the dark sky dotted with bright specks.

“So,” Minho says, bringing his chopsticks to his mouth and slurping a bite of noodles. He looks over at Jisung, who’s desperately trying to warm his hands with the cup of ramen. It’s so cold he can see Jisung’s breath come out in puffs in the cold air.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jisung says.

“You know, for a change,” Minho says before he can stop himself, and grins when he receives a punch on the arm from Jisung.

“You, be quiet,” Jisung says, pointing a finger at Minho. Minho holds his hands up, chopsticks in one hand and ramen cup in the other. Jisung smiles and returns his hand back to his cup. “You’ve noticed Felix’s crush on Changbin, right?”

Minho laughs, squeezing his eyes shut. “Oh, don’t even get me started,” Minho says. “He’s so obvious, but Changbin’s such a meathead he’ll never know.”

“Exactly,” Jisung says, “which is why you and I need to help them.”

Minho furrows his eyebrows. “You want to play matchmaker for Felix and Changbin?”

“Yeah, why not,” Jisung says, sipping some of the broth from his cup. “All we have to do is get Felix to do something that will make Changbin notice him.”

Minho ponders this, taking another bite of noodles. He studies Jisung’s face as he munches, trying to think of something. Except all he can think of is how long Jisung’s eyelashes are and how soft his skin looks.

“Minho?”

Minho sets down his cup and brings one hand up to Jisung’s cheek. Jisung’s eyes are wide; he looks petrified and nervous. The pad of Minho’s thumb softly strokes his cheek as Minho’s eyes wander over Jisung’s face.

“Minho?”

When their eyes meet, Minho blinks out of his trance and drops his hand like it never happened. “You had something on your cheek,” he mumbles and picks up his cup of ramen and takes another bite. He doesn’t see Jisung run a hand over the part of his cheek Minho touched.

“Honestly, that might work,” Jisung finally says. Minho whips his head towards Jisung, mouth stuffed. Jisung shrugs in response. “Just saying. You had me thinking you liked me for a second there.”

“Oh,” Minho says, turning back to his noodles. There’s barely anything left in the cup, so he tips the rest into his mouth. He chucks the cup into the garbage can behind him and stands up abruptly, brushing off his pants.

“You’re leaving?” Jisung asks, his voice small. Minho looks at Jisung’s shivering body and rolls his eyes.

“No,” he says, reaching a hand out to help him up. “ _We’re_ leaving. _You’re_ freezing.” Jisung grins, chattering teeth and all, and takes Minho’s hand. Minho walks him back to his dorm, taking about twice the normal time to get there because Jisung had wrapped his arms around Minho – “for warmth” – and refused to let go.

Not like Minho minded.

When Jisung reaches into his coat pocket for his key and unlocks the door, he glances up at Minho. “Thanks for buying me food,” he says.

Minho shrugs. “Anytime,” he says, “as long as you treat me to something.”

“We’ll see,” Jisung says, stepping into his room. “Hey, thanks for agreeing to help me set up Changbin and Felix,” he says. “I think if Felix did what you did, Changbin’ll definitely notice.” He looks down at the floor before looking back up at Minho. “You’ll have to come over so we can brainstorm some more tricks.”

Jisung smiles as he shuts the door, leaving Minho standing open-mouthed in the hallway.

_Did he just…? No, he wouldn’t… Could he?_

Minho sighs and shoulders his bag with a small smile, trudging down the hall with a spring of hope in his step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a very late update, i'm sorry  
> hope everyone is staying safe and healthy


	7. "I think you and Jisung would make a super cute couple!” - Hwang Hyunjin

“Minho, can I speak with you?”

Minho turns to face the director, stopping mid-step on his way to his dance bag and water bottle. “Yes, Director Jung?”

Director Jung beckons Minho closer and he obliges, stopping a few steps away from him. He would go closer, but to be honest, he’s a bit scared of the intense choreographer.

Director Jung raises an eyebrow. “I don’t bite, you know,” he says, and Minho looks down at his shoes, embarrassed. Director Jung laughs. “It’s alright, Minho, I’m not here to chew you out – well, not right now at least.” Minho gulps and nods. He has been getting a fair amount of corrections this past week for silly things, like missing a cue. There’s becoming a pattern between the days Minho messes up bad and when Jisung decides to watch the last bit of rehearsal, Minho’s noticed.

“Okay, I’ll cut to the chase,” Director Jung says, clapping his palms together. He peers at Minho overs his fingertips. “Mingi’s not doing too well; his back injury is getting worse by the day.” Minho cringes as he remembers Mingi wincing during the principles’ solo and feels his own back tense up at the mention of Mingi’s problem. Dancer sympathy pain. “Anyway, I’m gonna need you to start understudying him, starting tomorrow.” Minho’s eyes widen and his gaze shoots up from the floor. “I can keep the studio open for you and Yunho to practice together, he’ll be able to help you,” Director Jung says, plowing ahead. Either he doesn’t notice Minho’s shocked state, or he just doesn’t care. “Once you have the part somewhat down, I’m pulling Mingi out; I can’t let his injury get worse.”

Minho closes his mouth when Director Jung seems to be done because apparently his mouth was open. He blinks slowly as he processes the information and tries not to think about the sheer amount of extra practice it’s going to take to master the part before the showcase in –

Wait.

“Director Jung?” Minho asks. The director hums in response. “Isn’t the showcase in three weeks?”

Director Jung nods and claps a hand on Minho’s shoulder. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, that’s for sure,” he says, and Minho nearly faints from the sheer pressure of the task. Director Jung squeezes his shoulder and looks Minho in the eye. “But I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I knew you couldn’t handle it.” Director Jung gives Minho a small smile and drops his hand from Minho’s shoulder. “Now get outta here.”

“Yes, thank you, Director Jung,” Minho says, bowing slightly as he retreats to his bag. Almost everyone’s gone, except Hyunjin, who’s talking to Felix, who’s waiting for Minho so they can walk back to their dorm.

Minho flops onto the floor cross-legged next to his bag and drains his water bottle, and immediately regrets it after his stomach feels too full. “Ugh,” he groans, earning a judgmental look from Hyunjin.

“What’s wrong, Minho?” Felix asks, butt-scooting over to Minho, completely ignoring Hyunjin’s look.

Minho chuckles. “Guess who’s gotta learn the principle’s role in three weeks?” he says mock-excitedly, waving a peace sign sarcastically in front of his face.

“Really? No way,” Felix says. “That’s amazing, Minho! You’re gonna do great, I believe in you.” Felix flops on top of Minho in an attempt to hug him, crushing him as Minho groans from the body weight. Hyunjin lets out a giggle from wherever he’s sitting, clapping a hand to his mouth when Minho glares at him.

“Help me, please,” Minho says, voice strangled. Hyunjin rolls his eyes but there’s a grin plastered on his face as he stands up and hobbles over on stiff legs still sore from practice to drag Felix off Minho.

“No, he needs my endless love and support!” Felix cries out as Hyunjin pulls him off. “How will he know that he’s too good for this world if I’m not there to tell him?”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, this time a smirk spreads out on his lips. “Oh, I’m sure his boyfriend would be glad to tell him that, don’t you worry, Felix,” Hyunjin says. Minho snaps up and narrows his eyes at Hyunjin.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Minho says and throws his water bottle into his bag. In his anger, he misses his bag by a long shot and has to stand up to retrieve his water bottle while Hyunjin tries so, _so_ hard to repress his giggles.

“Then who’s that guy that comes in every now and then to watch you with the fattest heart-eyes I’ve ever seen?” Hyunjin asks, propping a hand on one hip. Felix looks at Hyunjin, looking just as confused as Minho before realizing who Hyunjin’s talking about.

“Oh, you mean Jisung!” Felix exclaims, turning to face Minho. “Aw, Minho, you never told me you guys started dating,” Felix says, pouting.

Minho avoids both of their gazes as he bends down to zip up his bag after putting his water bottle in. “We’re not dating,” he says defensively. “Jisung and I… we’re not – we’re not a thing, okay?” he says, throwing his bag over his shoulder as he looks at the other two.

Hyunjin looks suspicious and Felix looks mildly disappointed. Minho sighs and rolls his eyes, beckoning to Felix as he heads toward the door of the studio. Felix snatches up his bag and hikes it up on his shoulder as he follows Minho out the door, waving to Hyunjin with an apologetic smile on his face as he leaves the studio.

“For the record,” Hyunjin shouts at Minho and Felix’s retreating backs, “I think you and Jisung would make a super cute couple!”

***

“In three weeks?” Jisung screeches, grabbing at his hair.

Chaeyoung flips through the papers attached to his clipboard before looking back up at Jisung. “Yep, three weeks.”

“You think we’re gonna be ready to perform in _three weeks_?” Jisung screams again, his voice cracking on the last few words. His breathing starts to accelerate, and he paces the length of the recording studio at least four times before Chan shoots out an arm to stop him and pulls him into a tight hug to calm him down.

“You’re gonna have to be,” Chaeyoung says. “I was bragging about you guys to a few friends and it got back to this woman who manages a night club and she wants you guys to perform.” Jisung balls up his fists and tries hitting Chan’s arms to make him let go. Chaeyoung goes on bravely. “That was the only slot the club had. Unless you’d rather perform in five months.”

Jisung fixes Chaeyoung with a livid glare. “We could be performing after five months of dedicated preparation time instead of trying to cram it all into three weeks?” he says menacingly, and Chaeyoung, who doesn’t seem like the type to get scared easily, cowers under Jisung’s wrath. And rightfully so, considering the only thing keeping Jisung from jumping Chaeyoung is the fact that Chan really likes to work out.

“I thought you’d be of the ‘sooner rather than later’ mindset,” Chaeyoung says meekly.

Jisung roars with laughter. “Sooner rather than later my ass! I’d rather be bored of waiting than beat myself up _again_ for failing under such a small timeframe!”

“Jisung,” Chan says, adjusting his grip on the wriggling human. “Let’s look at the big picture. Chaeyoung was just trying to think of you and did his best, considering he doesn’t even know you all that well.” Jisung humphs in reply but stops struggling so much in Chan’s ironclad grip. “Also, this deadline forces you to not procrastinate on anything, which if anything Changbin tells me about you is true, could be a blessing in disguise.”

Jisung crosses his arms and Chan slowly releases his grip on Jisung, hesitant in case Jisung changes his mind and decides to go after Chaeyoung anyway.

“Sorry I’m late, guys,” Changbin says, bursting through the door with a coffee in hand. “Oh, hey Chaeyoung.” Chaeyoung waves. Changbin stops and looks at Chaeyoung again with a raised eyebrow. “Wait, why are you here?”

“To tell us that our debut stage is scheduled in three weeks,” Jisung says before Chan can cover his mouth.

Changbin nearly drops his coffee.

“WHAT!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my staytiny heart jumped out in these next few chapters hehe  
> this is a short one, but the next one's longer (and steamier) so be prePARED


	8. "I smelled cookies." Yang Jeongin

**_5:36 p.m._ **

_Jisung: wanna come over tonight? i’ve gotta vent_

_Minho: sure, be there in 5. i’ll bring cookies_

Jisung jumps up from the couch when he hears a knock on the door. He opens the door to find a smiling Minho, his favorite Minho, carrying a large tray of cookies covered in saran wrap.

"Hi,” Minho says and steps inside, Jisung closing the door behind him. Not five seconds pass before Jisung’s roommate, Jeongin, comes barreling down the hall at full speed, stopping right in front of Minho.

"Hi there,” Jeongin says, flashing a dimpled smile before his gaze flits down to the cookies. “I smelled cookies.”

Minho laughs, kicking off his shoes and walks over to the table to set the tray of cookies down, sitting down on the floor next to them. Jisung rolls his eyes as Jeongin follows Minho and the cookies like a hound and strides over, plopping down on the couch as he watches Jeongin tear off the saran wrap and stuff a cookie into his mouth.

“Choco-wah khip,” he says with his mouth full. He swallows and grabs five more cookies. “My favorite.” He winks at Minho before scurrying off to his bedroom.

Minho shakes his head with laughter. “Wow, your roommate is really something,” he says, a gleam in his eye as he looks at Jisung.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout him,” Jisung says. “Normally, I’d make him go visit his cousin’s dorm when I have people over, but I figured he’d stay in his room this one time.” Jisung takes a cookie from the tray. “Apparently not,” he says, biting into the cookie. Minho watches him, not in a creepy way, as he chews. “Whoa, it’s still warm!” Jisung exclaims.

Minho smiles, the eye smile. “They came out of the oven as you texted,” he says proudly.

"Wait, you made these?” Jisung says, stuffing the rest of the cookie into his mouth. “No way, theefs aw amashin.”

Minho giggles. Jisung looks at him funny and this time swallows before speaking. “What’s so funny?” he asks.

Minho swats a hand at him. “Oh, nothing.” Jisung glares at him. “Oh, okay, fine. It’s just, your cheeks are really cute when you eat, you know.”

A slight blush creeps up Jisung’s neck, and he hides his face in his hands so Minho doesn’t see it. “Shut up,” Jisung mumbles, bent over with his hands in his knees.

Minho scoots closer and prods Jisung’s hands with his nose. When Jisung moves his hands, Minho rests his head on Jisung’s lap, looking up at him with admiration. Jisung’s definitely red as a tomato now.

“I said,” Minho says, drawing out the word. “You’re cute.”

Jisung sputters and fails to put together words so he flops back against the couch cushion with his head lolled back. He hears Minho’s _ethereal_ giggle and feels a hand on his thigh. He looks up and sees Minho crawling onto his lap, knees on either side of Jisung’s legs, trapping him.

“Um,” Jisung says, his heart running a marathon in his chest as Minho places his hands on Jisung’s hips. He looks right into Minho’s eyes. The gleam from earlier is still there, but there’s something else too. Behind the sudden confident façade, Jisung can see a sliver of hope.

_Does he… hope this becomes something more…_

Jisung smiles softly at the realization of Minho’s intentions. Minho’s confidence falters when Jisung doesn’t appear flustered, and he nearly crumbles when Jisung brings a hand up to his face. Jisung trails his thumb over Minho’s cheekbone and his fingertips graze his jaw. Minho’s eyes are spread wide as he watches Jisung watch him. Jisung’s thumb stops as he touches Minho’s lower lip, slightly pulling at it and parting his lips.

“Pretty…” Jisung says under his breath. Minho’s body shakes and Jisung holds him up by placing his other hand on Minho’s shoulder to support him. Jisung’s smile transforms into a smirk and he pulls Minho closer to him so he can feel Minho’s ragged, hot breath near his mouth.

“You know,” Jisung says, considering Minho as he grips his chin. Minho gulps, eyes wide with surprise, but still gleaming. _He must want this…_ “I could totally kiss you right now. What do you think, kitten?”

The use of the pet name destroys Minho; his knees give out and he’s just sitting on Jisung’s lap, staring at Jisung like he doesn’t know what he wants. Jisung fixes him with a look, one that says _I’m waiting._

“I… I would – ” Minho starts. He turns his head at the absurd thumping sound coming from Jeongin’s bedroom. Minho doesn’t have time to scramble off Jisung’s lap before Jeongin enters the room again.

“I came back for more… cookies,” he says, stopping when he sees Minho sitting on top of Jisung. Jisung drops his hand from Minho’s face and Minho practically catapults to the other end of the couch, trying to put as much distance between himself and Jisung.

“Huh,” Jeongin says, inching forward to grab another handful of cookies. “You know, Jisung, I’d appreciate you telling me about your life more often. I feel like your roommate shouldn’t be the last to know you have a boyfriend.”

“We’re – we’re not dating, Jeongin,” Jisung stutters. Minho nods frantically in agreement.

“Why does everyone think we’re dating?” Minho mutters. Jisung whips his head in Minho’s direction.

“Who else thinks we’re dating?” Jisung asks, surprised.

“Hyunjin, from my dance crew,” Minho admits.

“Wait, you know Hyunjin?” Jeongin gasps. “He’s my cousin!” Realization washes over Jeongin’s face. “I’ll have to hit him up and get more intel on the both of you,” he says, pointing two fingers at himself, at Jisung and Minho, then back at himself, the signal for _I’m watching you._ He spins on his heel to go back to his room, then pivots again and steals another cookie off the tray before sprinting to his room.

Minho and Jisung are left in silence after Jeongin leaves, until Jisung speaks up. “Thanks for the cookies, by the way,” he says awkwardly. “Jeongin’s kind of a brat; didn’t even say thank you.” Jisung shakes his head in mock disappointment, earning a small giggle from Minho, but it’s more subdued than usual. Another bout of silence settles between them after Minho’s laugh fades away. Jisung looks over at him. Minho’s staring at his hands balled up in his lap.

"Um, I think I’m gonna go,” Minho says, standing up from the couch. He gives Jisung a long look. “You can return the tray to me whenever you want, I don’t mind.” He walks toward the door and his shoes. Jisung’s head whips around, following Minho with his gaze.

“Oh,” Jisung says, disheartened that Minho already wants to leave. “Well, I’ll see you when you’re done with practice, then?”

“Actually, I’m gonna be doing extra rehearsal for a while, ‘cause one of our principles is hurt and I’ve gotta learn his part,” Minho says. “I won’t be done with rehearsal until eight or nine o’clock at night.” He tugs on one shoe, then the other. “I wouldn’t wait for me if I were you.”

“Oh,” Jisung says again. “That’s an amazing opportunity, though,” he says, trying to extend the conversation. “I’m proud of you.”

Minho looks over at Jisung from the doorway. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks, Jisung.”

Jisung watches the door for a while after Minho closes it behind him.

Minho hasn’t seen, spoken to or texted Jisung for five days.

Felix doesn’t like what that does to Minho.

Normally, Minho would bicker with Hyunjin for ten minutes before rehearsal started, or yell at Felix to make sure they’re not late, or surprise Felix with snacks, homemade popcorn and a movie night when he knows they both don’t have morning classes the next day.

But without Jisung, shining like the sun on Minho’s day, he’s become reserved and rarely cracks a smile. He doesn’t even roll his eyes at Hyunjin anymore, which worries both Felix _and_ Hyunjin.

So naturally, Felix goes to Changbin for help. Surely Jisung’s best friend would know what’s going on between their friends, right?

But standing in front of the door to Changbin’s dorm, Felix has second thoughts. He brings his fist up at least three times to knock before he gets the courage to knock. The door opens before he can even take his knuckles off the door.

“Finally,” a blond guy with really tight jeans says, opening the door. “I was starting to think you were gonna go away.” The guy beckons Felix inside and closes the door behind him.

“You knew I was there?” Felix asks, perplexed. He slips out of his shoes and kicks them aside.

“I looked through the peephole,” the other guy says, shrugging. “I was about to go out, but I didn’t want to hit you with the door, so I had to wait until you either knocked, or left.” Felix nods awkwardly, not really knowing what to say to the guy. He’d never met him before, but he looked a tad familiar.

“Wooyoung, are you scaring people away again?” Felix hears Changbin’s shout echo through the dorm, followed by Changbin coming out of his room. He stops when he sees Felix. “Oh, hey, Felix.”

“I was heading to San’s place,” Wooyoung says. “Do we need anything?”

“Ooh, I think the candy is on sale for Valentine’s Day. Some chocolate sounds good right about now,” Changbin says. Wooyoung grins and flashes a thumbs-up and heads out the door.

“So,” Changbin says, turning to Felix. Felix gulps and tries to remember to breathe, and that he’s here for Minho and Jisung, not himself. “Can I ask, um, why are you here?”

“It’s about Jisung,” Felix says, twiddling his thumbs. He looks just about everywhere except Changbin’s face. “And Minho. Do you know anything about what’s going on between the two of them? Like, are they fighting?”

Changbin screws up his face in thought. “Jisung hasn’t mentioned anything to me,” he says. He sounds out the words like he’s still putting the thoughts together in his head. Felix finally works up the courage to look at Changbin while he speaks. “We’ve been super busy working on our music. Chaeyoung was practically breathing down our necks to get the demo.” He stops and shudders at the memory. Felix hasn’t met Chaeyoung in person, but he guesses he’d probably be a little scared of them too.

“Other than being partially sleep-deprived, Jisung’s been fine, I guess,” Changbin says and shrugs his shoulders.

Felix sighs. He’d hoped to get an answer, or even a hint about what’s going on from Changbin, but he doesn’t seem to know anything. “Oh,” Felix says. “Well, thanks for telling me. I guess they’ll have to work it out on their own. Good luck with your music, by the way,” Felix says, edging toward the door. “I’d come to see your ‘debut stage’ and all, but my dance crew’s showcase is that same night.”

“Wait!” Changbin shouts. Felix stops with his hand on the doorknob. “There might be something else.” Felix turns all the way around and leans on the door. “From what I picked up on at the Slam Night, there’s definitely some underlying attraction going on between Minho and Jisung,” Changbin says, looking at Felix for a second opinion.

Felix nods. “Yeah, there was, and is, I think,” he says. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but Minho did admit that he thought Jisung was sexy. His words, not mine,” Felix says with his hands up.

“Ah,” Changbin says, pointing his finger in the air. “So _that’s_ what it is. Jisung used to leave our music sessions early to go see Minho after his rehearsal, but he hasn’t been doing that lately.”

“And Minho hasn’t visited Jisung’s dorm at all this past week,” Felix chimes in. They’re close to the answer, he can feel it. It’s like a crime mystery, but without the murder.

"Do you think,” Changbin says, his voice softer. “Do you think they – _kissed?_ ”

Felix’s eyes spring open wide. Heat rises to his cheeks when that word comes out of Changbin’s mouth. “I don’t know – maybe? I feel like Minho would’ve told me about it if they did though,” Felix says, dejectedly. “We always talk about everything.”

Changbin puts a hand on Felix’s arm. “Aw, come on, man, if you guys are best friends then he definitely would’ve told you,” Changbin says. His hand stays on Felix’s arm and Felix feels it getting warm under his jacket. And his heart is speeding up – oh _god._

Changbin’s face lights up. “Which means we have our answer,” he says, looking up at Felix. Felix tilts his head, confused. Changbin shakes his head. “Lemme explain. If Minho had told you something, then that would’ve meant they’d kissed, or done something more.” Changbin sticks out his tongue at that, and Felix’s stomach rolls. _Gross,_ he thinks. “So, since he didn’t tell you, that means that nothing happened, or something did but there was a misunderstanding.” Felix nods along. He tries to take deep breaths without making it noticeable since Changbin’s hand is still on his arm.

“So, you’re saying there’s some miscommunication happening?” Felix says, summing up what Changbin said.

“Yep.” He removes his hand from Felix’s arm and crosses his own, deep in thought. Felix lets out a sigh at the loss of contact, then nearly chokes on air when he looks at Changbin’s crossed arms.

“Is there anything we can do?” Felix asks. He shoves aside the thoughts of Changbin’s physique and pushes his concern for his friends to the front of his mind.

Changbin ponders this for a bit. Felix bites his lip and starts twiddling his fingers again. It’s the only thing he can do to keep himself from biting his nails in times of stress like this.

“There is something,” Changbin says. Felix perks up. Changbin grins at Felix and lets out an almost evil giggle if it weren’t so cute. Of course, Felix nearly melts on the spot. _Wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, after hearing that wonderful sound,_ he thinks.

“We should set them up on a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay a felix pov that was fun to write  
> everyone stay safe and healthy


	9. "Well, this was definitely a set-up." Lee Minho

**_4:37 p.m._ **

**_Felix:_ ** _since we don’t have rehearsal today, wanna grab dinner at the hot pot place?_

**_Minho:_ ** _yeah, why not? i’ll pay, if u want_

**_Felix:_ ** _awesome! meet u there at 6!_

**_Minho:_ ** _cool see u there!_

**_4:43 p.m._ **

**_Changbin:_ ** _wanna call off recording for today and grab some hot pot?_

**_Jisung:_ ** _u know i do. what time?_

**_Changbin:_ ** _6\. see u then!_

**_Jisung:_ ** _yeah, see u!_

**_5:57 p.m._ **

Minho’s a block away from the hot pot place when someone swings an arm over his shoulder and he nearly faceplants on the sidewalk.

“You mother– ” Minho curses as he regains his footing, glaring at Felix, who’s laughing like a hyena. Minho fiddles with the sleeves of his sweater and waits for Felix to get a grip.

“You should’ve seen your face!” Felix cackles and covers his mouth with his hand to suppress the giggles, even though his crescent-shaped eyes give away that he’s nowhere near done clowning Minho. Felix wraps his arm around Minho’s shoulders again as they start walking, this time with less force.

“Yes, haha,” Minho retorts, lips forming a pout. Felix turns his head when he hears Minho’s sulky tone.

“Aw, mopey baby,” Felix coos, poking Minho’s cheek. Minho bristles at the touch and jerks away. His face has repulsion written all over it, with a smidge of ‘I’m-gonna-kick-your-ass-later.’ Anyone else would cower in fear, but Felix bites his lower lip in a futile attempt to stifle another bout of laughter.

Minho rolls his eyes at his best friend and keeps walking. He smiles to himself when he hears Felix walking faster to catch up to him.

“Oh, I forgot to ask,” Felix says, tapping Minho on the arm, “I invited Changbin to eat with us, ‘cause I didn’t want him to think I was asking him out on a date.” Felix blushes at the thought and Minho smirks.

“Ah, I see what this is, then,” Minho replies, the smirk not vanishing. “Don’t worry, it’ll be like I’m not even there,” he says and grabs one of Felix’s hands with both of his and squeezes it tight as a promise.

Felix smiles. “Thanks, Minho,” he says. “I’ll owe you one.”

***

**_6:01 p.m._ **

“Yo, Jisung! I thought we were getting there at six!” Changbin shouts from the front of the dorm.

“I’m almost ready!” Jisung yells back, his voice faint from his room.

Jeongin shakes his head in mock disappointment. “Jisung’s always running late,” he says to Changbin, who nods, even though he already knows this. “I think it’s because he never knows what to do with his hair.”

Changbin looks at Jeongin, surprised. “You may have figured it out, Jeongin,” he says, and Jeongin smiles wide at the compliment. Changbin looks in the direction of Jisung’s room. “In all my years of knowing him, I could never figure it out. But that would explain why whenever he’s really running late, he just throws on a beanie.”

Jisung emerges from his room wearing an oversized flannel and a beanie.

Jeongin turns to Changbin in shock. “You must be magic,” he says, reaching a hand out to touch Changbin’s face. Changbin screws up his face in disgust as Jeongin’s hand approaches.

“I wouldn’t,” Jisung says, lowering Jeongin’s arm. He smiles apologetically at Changbin. “Let’s go?”

“Yep,” Changbin says. “Oh, by the way,” he says as Jisung bends over to slip on his shoes. “Felix is gonna be joining us for dinner.” Jisung looks up at Changbin, a smirk already forming on his face and one eyebrow raises up.

“Ooh, yas, get it, bro,” Jisung says as he stands up and claps Changbin on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll try not to third-wheel too much.” He looks at Changbin with doe eyes. “But I do happen to have some interesting stories about you, and who knows if I’ll be in a storytelling mood tonight.” Changbin watches in horror as Jisung’s eyes glint almost evilly.

Jeongin low-whistles. “You better watch your back, Changbin, that’s a real backstabbing glint right there.”

Changbin snorts. “Thanks, Jeongin. But I don’t think Jisung’s gonna be bothering me too much tonight.”

***

**_6:12 p.m._ **

“Is he coming?” Minho asks. They’ve been here for ten minutes already, and the waiter has come over at least three times only to be sent away by Felix.

Felix looks around nervously, craning his neck to look out the windows of the restaurant. Minho doesn’t bother; he’s sitting at the corner of the table close to the wall, able to make himself seem like he’s not there so he won’t disturb Felix and Changbin’s ‘not-a-date.’

“Oh, there they are!” Felix says, clapping his hands together, and waves to Changbin as he walks in the door.

Minho furrows his eyebrows and looks at Felix.

“Did you say ‘they?’” Minho asks. Felix looks guiltily at Minho for a split second, mouthing a ‘sorry’ before standing up and greeting Changbin and –

Jisung.

Minho forgets to breathe for a second when he sees Jisung, who’s all smiley with Felix until he sets his gaze on Minho. Jisung’s eyes widen, and Minho realizes that Jisung’s just as surprised to see Minho as Minho is to see him.

Changbin slides into the seat next to Minho, enveloping him in a side-bro hug. Jisung shuffles around Felix and takes the seat next to him, right across from Minho.

Minho looks at his hands clasped firmly together on the table, trying not to look at Jisung. He knows if he does, he’s just going to see his lips mouthing the word, ‘kiss,’ and the word ‘kitten’ rolling off his tongue with a sultry glint in his eyes. Jisung doesn’t say anything either, so Changbin and Felix make small talk to fill the silence, eyes flitting over to Jisung and Minho every now and then.

Felix claps his hands together as the waiter walks over, a bored look on his face as he prepares his notepad. “So, what do you guys want?” Felix says, looking at Minho and Jisung.

“I’ll just do a pork and mushroom stew,” Minho says, barely looking up to make eye contact with Felix.

“Could I add tofu to the mushroom stew?” Jisung asks softly, and the waiter nods, making a note on his pad.

“Anything else?” he drones, looking at Felix and Changbin. Felix opens his mouth to order, but Changbin interrupts.

“Wait, aw shoot,” he says, pulling out his phone. “I promised Wooyoung I’d help his boyfriend move today.” He stands up and bows to the waiter. “I’m so sorry, I have to go.” The waiter rolls his eyes and shrugs. He looks like he really doesn’t care.

Felix pops out of his seat. “Me too,” he says and turns pink when Minho gives him a weird look. “I mean, I should help Changbin, I want to help Changbin.” He puts his hands together and waves them at Minho pleadingly. Minho rolls his eyes and nods, shooing Felix towards Changbin with one hand.

“You guys go ahead, then,” Minho says, sparing a glance at Jisung. Jisung’s looking at him with wide eyes like he can hardly believe Minho’s allowing this to happen. “We’ll be fine here,” Minho says with a knowing look at both Felix and Changbin. Both their guilty faces all but confirm this was a set-up.

“Thanks,” Felix says to Minho, and Changbin nods in agreement, fixing Jisung with a knowing stare.

“Don’t make a mess,” Changbin says before he drags Felix out of the restaurant by the hand. Felix’s face is a bright red by the time they make it out the door. Minho frowns at Changbin’s choice of words.

When the door swings shut, Minho takes a chance to look at Jisung. With his bangs sticking out of his beanie and chubby cheeks and round doe eyes that look like they could fit all the stars, Jisung looks as adorable as ever. That’s when he understands what Changbin meant. _Don’t make a mess of your feelings, because it’s going to take a long time to clean up._ Inside the miniature galaxy in Jisung’s eyes, Minho sees the sliver of hope that looks so much like the one in his own eyes when he looks in the mirror. _It looks better on Jisung,_ Minho thinks.

_Curse my big, fat crush on this boy._

***

“Well, this was definitely a set-up,” Minho says. Jisung nearly sighs with relief; thank god Minho spoke first.

“Yeah,” Jisung says, scratching his head under the beanie. “But hey, that means they talked to each other, right? So, our matchmaking thing was kind of a success.” Jisung shrugs, trying to keep the conversation going.

Minho frowns. “The only reason they talked was to plan this because we weren’t talking. You’re saying us not talking was good?”

Jisung shakes his head, speaking quickly. “No, no, that’s not what I meant, I – ” he stops and holds his head in his hands. He looks up at Minho with a desperate look. “You know I didn’t mean it like that, right?”

Minho considers this and nods slowly. “Yeah, I know,” he says and reaches a hand out across the table. Jisung looks at it quizzically. “It was really hard for me, not talking to you,” Minho says, beckoning with his fingers to Jisung.

Jisung understands and holds Minho’s outstretched hand with one of his. He squeezes it for good measure, just to make sure it’s real. He caresses the back of Minho’s hand with the pad of his thumb. “I don’t think I realized how much I like you until you stopped talking to me,” Jisung says. He doesn’t look at Minho, just focuses on watching their hands clasped together on the table.

“Jisung, look at me.”

Jisung reluctantly obliges and meets Minho’s eyes. There, he can see the glimmering hope he saw in Minho’s eyes back a week ago. _I wonder if he can see that I’m hoping too._

“I was afraid you were leading me on,” Minho confesses. He doesn’t break eye contact. Jisung gulps. “That’s happened to me before; straight guys just wanting to have fun, to _experiment,_ even gay guys that just wanted me for a night. To have _fun._ ” Jisung’s throat constricts when Minho says these things. _I wouldn’t want to be in the same room as someone who hurt Minho,_ Jisung thinks as the anger boils in the pit of his stomach.

“I’d never do that to you,” Jisung says, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. He keeps looking Minho in the eye. “I care about you too much.”

Minho smiles, and this time, the corners of his eyes crinkle up. _There it is,_ Jisung thinks, his lips parting into a smile. “I like you too, Jisung,” Minho says and squeezes Jisung’s hand.

Watching Minho’s lips part into his signature smile he missed so much, Jisung feels the jitters in his stomach come alive again. He squeezes Minho’s hand back, and brings it up to his lips, and leaves a feather-soft kiss on the back of his hand. Jisung looks up from under his eyelids and sees Minho’s cheeks starting to redden. Jisung smiles as he lowers Minho’s hand.

“Good,” he says, and lets go of Minho’s hand as the waiter returns with a giant bowl of broth.

The dinner is filled with knowing glances at each other through the steam of their bowls, only to look down again, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

*** 

Changbin turns to Felix as soon as they’re a few blocks away from the restaurant. Felix looks like he’s just run a marathon, his face is so pink. Changbin stops so Felix can catch his breath.

“You good, Felix?” Changbin asks. Felix’s eyes go wide at the prospect of something being potentially wrong with him. Changbin nods to his face. “You’re a little pink.”

“Oh,” Felix says, and the color on his face seems to darken. Changbin raises an eyebrow, confused. Felix fans his face with the hand Changbin’s not holding. Felix holds up their intertwined hands. “Could you, uh,” he stutters, trying to form words, “could you maybe let go?”

Changbin looks at their hands. “Oh. Sure,” he says and drops his hand. Felix looks relieved to not be holding Changbin’s hand and holds his face in his hands, trying to cool it off. “Kinda warm for winter, huh,” Felix says idly, and Changbin nods suspiciously.

“Haha,” Felix laughs self-consciously when Changbin doesn’t say anything. He looks back in the direction of the restaurant. “Do you think it worked?” he asks.

Changbin tilts his head thoughtfully. “Yeah, I think so,” he says, nodding. “I think they just needed a little shove in the right direction.”

Felix nods. “Yeah, don’t we all.” Felix stuffs his hands in his pockets, his face a little less pink than before. “Well, I’m gonna head back to my dorm,” he says. “Bye, Changbin.”

“Wait,” Changbin says, and Felix stops mid-turn. “Are you gonna eat something?”

“I’ve got a microwave and some instant ramen in my dorm,” Felix says. “I’ll be good for tonight.” Changbin’s not completely reassured.

“Come on, I feel bad you didn’t get to eat hot pot,” Changbin says. “Let’s go somewhere for dinner, my treat.”

“You don’t have to do that, Changbin, I’ve got food,” Felix says, looking at the ground near Changbin’s feet.

“Yes, I do,” Changbin says, and grabs one of Felix’s arms. He starts dragging him down the street to the fried chicken place he's heard about from one of Chaeyoung's friends. Changbin takes a quick look at Felix over his shoulder and sees Felix’s face is getting pinker by the second. Changbin smiles and finds Felix’s hand inside his coat pocket and holds it in his own. Maybe he likes being able to make Felix so flustered.

The tiny bell above the door rings as the two of them walk in. Changbin doesn’t let go of Felix’s hand, even after they sit down at a table. Changbin hands Felix a menu while the waiter sets down two glasses of water.

“Thanks, Changbin,” Felix says softly. Now that his flushing has calmed down, Changbin can count all the freckles dotting his cheeks and nose.

Changbin smiles broadly and gives Felix’s hand a little squeeze. “Anytime, Lix.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minsung AND changlix? yes, please, and thank you  
> thanks so much for comments and kudos!  
> also, this is getting long, but trust me, there's more to come... hehehe


	10. "I'm gay, you idiot." - Han Jisung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: sexual content at the end of the chapter. Please skip if you are uncomfortable/triggered by reading that.  
> It starts at “When the bus arrives at their stop...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh ho ho, minsung be wildin' in this chapter  
> if you don't care for mild smut, please skip the last section of the chapter (it gets real soft toward the end tho, so stick around for that)

**_2 Days Before the Showcase/Debut Stage_ **

Minho and Jisung have been official for a little over a week now, and Minho couldn’t be happier. It’s hard to describe the feeling in his chest when he sees Jisung and can think, _Yeah, that’s my boyfriend._

And right now, with Jisung’s long floppy hair getting in his eyes and his arms piled high with scarves, that feeling bubbles up in Minho’s chest again.

“Where does Director Jung want these?” Jisung asks through a mouthful of fabric, holding up the scarves.

Minho points to the nook in the wings of the stage where people already put some props. “Over there, see the prop table?” Jisung nods. “That’s perfect,” Minho says, looking Jisung right in the eye. Jisung’s cheeks tinge a light pink as he waddles across the stage and into the wings.

Minho’s glad Jisung agreed to come help the crew move all the costumes and props from the studio into the performance hall. Hyunjin keeps throwing Minho looks with raised eyebrows whenever he sees Jisung, but Minho doesn’t mind. Felix is like a Labrador retriever whenever Jisung’s around, including today. Ever since finding out their birthdays are one day after the other, they’ve been proclaiming themselves as ‘the twins.’

Minho watches Felix and Jisung choreograph a handshake, and he says choreograph because it’s almost all trendy dance moves. Watching Jisung remember every step of their handshake, Minho remembers that Jisung used to dance at the Performing Arts Academy he attended, and Minho wonders what it’d be like to watch Jisung dance.

“Alright, move it, everyone! We’ve only got an hour left with the moving truck, so chop-chop!” Director Jung’s shout echoes through the theater and everyone snaps to attention and scurries away to grab more boxes of costumes.

Minho ends up walking next to Jisung as they bring the next load inside the performance hall.

“How many hats do you guys seriously need?” Jisung mutters from under a stack of hats.

Minho snorts next to him, carrying a box full of extra pairs of pointe shoes, in case someone needs to sew a new pair after any of their five performances lined up for this weekend.

“Pipe down, Sung, you don’t know the half of it,” Minho says, lifting a finger off of the box he’s carrying to point Jisung in the right direction. Jisung lets out a little ‘ah’ as he turns down the right hall to the dressing rooms.

“Excuse you, I do know _some_ things about performing,” Jisung says indignantly, setting down the stack of hats unceremoniously next to more boxes of costumes. “I used to attend a prestigious academy of music and dance I’ll have you know.”

“Ah, really?” Minho asks, feigning curiosity. Minho leads Jisung out of the backstage area through the wings. “I had no idea. You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Jisung stops in the middle of the stage. “I could show you right now,” he says, planting his feet firmly on center center. He extends a hand toward Minho. “But I’m gonna need your help.”

Minho holds a hand to his chest in mock surprise. “Me?”

“Yes, you, Mister Principle Dancer,” Jisung says, beckoning Minho closer. Minho grabs Jisung’s outstretched hand and Jisung puts his other hand on Minho’s shoulder. Minho tentatively places a hand on Jisung’s waist. They start moving in a little box, Minho following Jisung’s feet as he leads him around.

“Are we square dancing?” Minho asks. He looks down at Jisung and for the first time, he really notices how much taller he is than Jisung.

“Maybe,” Jisung says, looking at the floor. Minho watches him concentrate on the steps. His cheeks puff out as he tries to remember the steps. _He looks so dang cute._

Jisung looks up and sees Minho watching him. “Stop silently judging me,” Jisung says, “I’ve only ever done this with girls.” He bites his lip in concentration and Minho tries to suppress a smile. He fails miserably.

“Is this the only _thing_ you’ve ever done with girls, Sung?” Minho asks, wiggling his eyebrows. Jisung hits Minho lightly on the shoulder and rolls his eyes.

“Of course not,” Jisung says, spinning Minho around. “I’m gay, you idiot.”

“Gay for me?” Minho says, opening his eyes wide. Jisung looks Minho up and down.

“Very,” Jisung replies, eyes becoming slits as he smiles and his hand creeps up the back of Minho’s neck. Minho shivers.

Jisung tilts Minho’s head down, pressing their foreheads together. Minho’s heart starts whirring and he tries to breathe evenly. Jisung’s lips are close, so close to his own –

“Hey, break it up, lovebirds, we’ve still got more stuff in the truck!”

Minho and Jisung break apart at Director Jung’s voice. Shy and embarrassed, they climb off the front of the stage. As they’re walking down the aisle to the lobby, Jisung grabs Minho’s hand. Minho looks at him, surprised.

“We’ll finish this later,” Jisung says with a small quirk to his lips. Minho finds the courage to smile back at his boyfriend as they make their way to the moving truck.

***

**_1 Day Before Showcase/Debut Stage_ **

“You can’t go onstage like that!” one of the costume designers tells Minho. “Jung’s gonna freak!”

Minho looks down at his pants. They were dragging on the floor before so he’d rolled them up and secured them with a rubber band around the cuff so they wouldn’t slip off his leg. Pretty ingenious if you ask him.

“My cue’s in three eights,” Minho says, craning his neck to peek out of the downstage right wing. Director Jung is sitting in the third row from the front, scrutinizing the corps dancers.

“Ugh, fine, but give me those pants after you’re done tonight, okay?” Minho nods at the costume designer, who runs off to the dressing rooms after hearing a faint shout from another designer. _Wouldn’t wanna be doing costuming on dress rehearsal night,_ Minho thinks. He shakes out his hands and prepares for his cue.

He runs onstage and begins the choreography, executing it at one-hundred ten percent. He watches Yunho as they get ready for the lift, the most difficult part of the choreography that Minho had to learn.

Yunho plants his feet and does a few counts of arm movements before he reaches out for Minho, who does a complex jump before running to Yunho and spiraling up his body into the angel lift. Minho wobbles forward a little and Yunho reaches out a hand to balance Minho’s torso. Minho stays in the air until the corps dancers run back onstage. The dismount is shaky but Minho regains his footing quickly and rejoins the choreography after a split second. _Hope Jung didn’t see that._

“Alright, everyone, stop!” Director Jung shouts, waving his arms at the music director. The music stops and Director Jung recrosses his arms. The dancers stand stick-straight under the director’s gaze. Minho watches Hyunjin bring a hand up to his nose out of the corner of his eye. _Hyunjin, no –_

“Hwang Hyunjin, I swear to god, what is it with you and itching your goddamn nose?” Hyunjin squeals when he realizes Director Jung caught him again and mumbles something along the lines of ‘nervous habit.’ Director Jung either doesn’t hear Hyunjin’s response or doesn’t care.

“Not bad, everyone, but Yunho and Minho, I’m gonna need to see that lift again, specifically the end of it, before we leave tonight.” Both Yunho and Minho nod quickly. “Okay, then. From the top of the piece, please!” Everyone sighs as they shuffle back into the wings, Minho included. He starts counting as the music starts, getting ready for his entrance again.

_At least I get to see Jisung tonight._

***

“Guys, I think we need a name,” Changbin says, sipping his milk tea with his feet propped up on the table. Jisung doesn’t know when he had the time to go out and get the tea, their break isn’t quite long enough to go to the mall twenty minutes from campus.

“Get your feet off the equipment, Changbin,” Chan says, standing up and wiping the dirt from Changbin’s shoes off his precious producing equipment. “And while I agree we need a name don’t you think we should’ve thought of that a long time ago?”

Jisung nods. “Yeah, I’m with Chan on this one,” he says. “Aren’t our stage names enough for now?”

Changbin shakes his head. “Nah, we gotta go all in on this,” Changbin says, taking another sip of his milk tea. His eyes bug open wide when an idea hits him, his mouth still full of tea. He swallows and says, “What about ‘3racha?’” he sets down his tea and spreads his hands out wide in front of him like he’s presenting a banner.

“Like the hot sauce?” Jisung says, extremely confused.

“No, three-ra-cha,” Changbin annunciates.

“Oh,” Chan says. “It’s a wordplay on sriracha, but with ‘three’ because there’s three of us.” Changbin nods aggressively when Chan gets it, pointing his finger at him like ‘yep, that’s right.’

“What kind of name is that?” Jisung asks. He tilts his head, still kind of confused.

“A great one, ‘cause I thought of it,” Changbin declares and leans back in his chair.

Jisung turns to Chan for help. “Chan, please veto this. You’re our only hope.”

Chan shrugs. “I dunno, man, I’m kinda vibin’ with it,” he says and pats Changbin on the back. “3racha it is.”

Jisung falls out of his chair, landing on his knees and claps his hands to his face like the kid in _Home Alone_. “No!” he wails until Changbin makes like he’s going to get out of his seat and make Jisung shut up himself. Jisung sighs as Chan calls Chaeyoung to tell them about the new name of their group.

_At least I get to see Minho tonight._

***

Jisung busses downtown to the performance hall after 3racha’s last practice before their debut. Minho told him he didn’t have to come pick him up since dress rehearsal would definitely be running late, but Jisung does anyway. He recognizes a few members of Minho’s crew walking away from the performance hall. _Director Jung must be in a good mood,_ Jisung thinks and starts jogging so he catches Minho before he leaves without him.

Jisung sees Minho a little way up the street. “Minho!” he calls, waving his arm frantically.

Minho turns around, his face lighting up. “Jisung! You came!” Jisung gives him a soft peck on the lips when he reaches him. Minho smiles wide, the eye smile, and Jisung’s heart promptly flutters.

“Of course I came, you dummy,” Jisung says. “I would never let my boyfriend take the bus home alone _at night._ ” Jisung grabs Minho’s hand as they start walking toward the bus stop, Jisung matching Minho’s slow steps.

“Sore?” Jisung asks. Minho nods, pursing his lips as they step down off a curb. “How was dress rehearsal?”

“Not bad,” Minho says, squinting his eyes in thought. “Jung _actually_ let us out on time, so that’s good. He said, ‘get a good night’s rest and eat a healthy breakfast,’ or something like that. I think he cares about us,” Minho finishes. They stop walking when they reach the bus stop, ducking under the shelter so Minho can sit down.

“Of course he cares about you guys,” Jisung says. “You’re his crew; he’s gotta take care of you.” Jisung rubs the back of Minho’s hand with his thumb. “If anyone got an injury now, the show and the dancer would be compromised.”

Minho shivers at the thought of getting injured. “Remind me to stretch tonight,” he says. He stands up when he sees the bus, a few joints cracking as he does so.

Jisung leads Minho onto the bus and drags him to an empty row of two seats in the back. He lets Minho have the window seat. Somewhat ungracefully for a dancer, Minho flops into the seat and rests his head on the glass, dropping his bag at his feet. Jisung smiles and wraps an arm around his worn-out boyfriend.

Jisung turns his head to Minho, whose eyes are closed. “Guess what?” Jisung says. Minho groans in response, too tired to articulate himself using words. “Changbin asked Felix out yesterday.” Minho’s eyes open.

“What, really?” he says, surprised. “No way.”

Jisung nods. “Yes way. Apparently they’re doing dinner after our debut stage. Changbin said Felix would try to rush out of there after your performance tomorrow night and come see it.”

“Looks like we were successful in getting them together after all,” Minho says cheekily.

“Yeah we were,” Jisung says. “You should come too, it’s gonna be awesome.”

“I bet,” Minho says, petting the back of Jisung’s head. “You know I’d never miss one of your performances, right?” Minho looks Jisung in the eye. “I promised you that I’d see every single one of your performances that day, remember?” Jisung nods. He does remember. After all, that was the day he decided to pursue his dream again. “Because when you’re on the stage…” Minho trails off, thinking back to the slam night. “Jisung, when you’re on the stage, you’re like the sun.”

There’s a lump in Jisung’s throat. “Is that a good thing?” Jisung asks.

“That’s a great thing,” Minho says, pulling Jisung closer to him. “When I saw you that night, I thought you were like the sun.” He kisses Jisung’s temple and nuzzles their heads together. “You were like the sun, and I was crashing into you.”

Jisung turns his head and kisses the corner of Minho’s mouth. “Then I’m glad you did,” he says. “Because if I'm the sun, then you’re my whole universe.”

Minho’s cheeks heat up so much Jisung can feel it from where he’s sitting. “Was that too cheesy?” he asks Minho. Minho just blinks at him.

“Jisung, you’re the biggest cheeseball ever,” he says, pulling Jisung in for a hug.

“I thought I was the sun,” Jisung says indignantly, pouting.

Minho laughs and rests his head on Jisung’s shoulder. “With me, you get to be everything.” Jisung smiles and looks down at his boyfriend’s face. The flush on his cheeks from rehearsal is gone and his lips form a little pout as he drifts asleep. Jisung raises one finger and drags it down the bridge of Minho’s nose. When he reaches the tip, he starts over from the top near his eyebrows. Minho hums as Jisung continues, cuddling closer to him. The corners of Jisung’s lips turn up. He could get used to this.

***

When the bus arrives at their stop, Jisung carries Minho’s dance bag and his own backpack as Minho trudges sleepily off the bus.

“Can I sleep at your place?” Minho whines. He uses Jisung’s arm to support him as he walks. “My dorm takes longer to walk to.” He opens his eyes only to appeal to Jisung, even though he knows Jisung’s already decided.

“Of course, my sleepy kitten,” Jisung says, booping Minho on the nose. Minho wrinkles his nose up in disgust. He takes his bag from Jisung as Jisung searches his backpack for his key.

“I thought you only called me that when you wanna kiss me and... you know,” Minho says. Jisung unlocks the door and Minho walks in and throws his bag on the floor, slipping off his shoes.

“Well,” Jisung says, giving Minho a look, his lips curling up into a smirk. “Who says I don’t want to right now?”

Minho groans. “Sungie, not now. I’m sore,” he complains, walking into Jisung and Jeongin’s kitchen area, which is just a microwave stacked on top of a minifridge. He grabs a banana and peels it, looking suggestively at Jisung as he eats it.

Jisung looks annoyed as he watches Minho eat. He crosses his arms and his foot starts tapping the floor anxiously. Minho watches Jisung run his tongue along his lower lip and bite it before he purses his lips together and walks to his bedroom.

Minho smirks victoriously and finishes the banana, waiting for a bit until he follows Jisung into his room. Minho doesn’t bother knocking on the door and opens it, revealing Jisung in the middle of changing into his pajamas. His arms are in his shirt, but nothing else is.

“Um, privacy please?” Jisung says sarcastically, pulling the shirt all the way off as Minho closes the distance between them. He places his hands on Jisung’s bare lower back, eliciting a soft gasp from Jisung.

“I like the sound of that,” Minho murmurs as he lowers his lips to Jisung’s neck. Jisung tilts his head away as Minho kisses all the way up to his jaw. Jisung lets out a little ‘ah,’ which gets louder and louder as Minho kisses harder.

Jisung stumbles backward after a particularly rough kiss onto his bed, chest heaving as he sits up with his back against the wall. Minho watches the planes of his chest rise up and down until his breathing evens out. Jisung smirks when Minho doesn’t say anything.

“Like what you see?” Jisung says, resting his hands on his inner thighs as his legs fall open in front of him. Minho suppresses a groan as he watches Jisung drag his hands up his legs and over his front, Jisung’s eyes fluttering shut as he brushes over it. Minho takes a step closer to the bed as Jisung fiddles with the button of his jeans, looking Minho in the eye as he does so.

Jisung raises an eyebrow as if to say, ‘can I?’ Minho nods quickly and Jisung’s smirk grows wider. His hand comes away from his jeans and he grabs Minho’s shirt, pulling him onto the bed. Minho lands in between Jisung’s legs, face ablaze, as Jisung’s hands go to the hem of Minho’s shirt.

“Remember this position?” Jisung asks as he lifts up Minho’s shirt, purposely dragging his fingers on Minho’s skin as he does so. Minho’s skin is fire where Jisung touches it and he puts his arms up, throwing the shirt away as it comes up over his head. Jisung trails his fingers from the top of Minho’s shoulders all the way down his chest, tracing the lines of his stomach.

As Jisung looks him up and down hungrily, Minho has never been more glad that conditioning for dance keeps him in good shape.

“You still sore, kitten?” Jisung suddenly asks. Minho snaps his head up and looks right into Jisung’s eyes. The sultry glint is back, and Minho loves it. That glint makes him want to fall apart right in Jisung’s arms. “You still tired from how hard you’ve been working?” Jisung accents the word ‘hard,’ and Minho feels the crotch of his pants getting tighter. Jisung smiles when he realizes this and tantalizingly dances his fingers around the waistband of Minho’s pants.

At this point, Minho can’t bear not feeling Jisung’s lips on his, so to remedy that, he surges forward to kiss him. Jisung is clearly surprised; his eyes are open wide for a moment until Minho makes the kiss rougher. Jisung’s fingers are hot where they touch his waist and by the time Jisung crawls into Minho’s lap, his skin is a blazing wildfire.

So maybe Jisung pushes particularly hard as they kiss, toppling both him and Minho onto the bed. So maybe Jisung’s hand goes a little below the belt, making Minho moan and scurry to shed the rest of his clothing. So maybe Jisung makes Minho feel good, so good he almost sees stars behind his eyelids.

But when he opens his eyes, all he sees is Jisung, spit-slicked lips and eyes twinkling, hovering over him. Minho smiles and pulls Jisung down on top of him, holding the back of his head. Jisung closes the distance between their lips and nearly kisses the living daylights, or at least, what’s left of it, out of Minho.

Minho nuzzles their noses together when Jisung pulls away and rolls off Minho and cuddles up next to him. He reaches off the bed and throws a piece of fabric on Minho’s chest. Minho grabs his boxers and shuffles into them, trying not to yelp when his sore legs protest.

Jisung has a worried look on his face when Minho flops back down onto the bed next to him. “Still sore?” Jisung asks. All pretenses of sex are gone from his voice, this time, he’s purely concerned for his boyfriend’s physical health.

Minho smiles at Jisung’s worry and brings a hand up to Jisung’s face, softly brushing his cheek. “I’m fine, I just didn’t stretch.”

“Aw, shit,” Jisung says and his nose scrunches up as he remembers. “I was supposed to remind you to do that, wasn’t I?” Minho nods, biting his lip, slightly amused as Jisung groans. _Even when he’s upset with himself, he’s still adorable._

“I’m such a terrible boyfriend,” Jisung says dejectedly and sticks out his lower lip, not looking at Minho.

“Nonsense,” Minho says. He uses the hand on Jisung’s cheek to turn his head toward him. “Since I am your boyfriend, I get to decide if you’re being a bad boyfriend. And I decide that you’re not. So there.” Minho is triumphant when he earns a small smile from Jisung.

“You’re the best, Minho,” Jisung says, snuggling closer to Minho’s body. Minho grabs the blanket and throws it over both of them. Jisung’s probably halfway to the dreamland by the time Minho finishes rearranging the blanket. He sighs as he watches Jisung, not in a creepy way, and lays his head down on the pillow. Jisung’s face seems to glow in the light streaming in from the window, and Minho falls a little more in love with him, if that’s even possible.

_Why would I look at the stars when the sun is a million times brighter?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a very long chapter for me, so it might take a bit longer to post the next one  
> thanks again so much for comments and kudos! you guys keep me going!


	11. "One, two! 3RACHA get spotlight!" - 3RACHA

**_Day of Showcase/Debut Stage_ **

Minho doesn’t normally get nervous before performing.

Usually, he’s the one leading breathing exercises backstage and telling everyone they’re going to do great. Like the time when Felix almost lost it before his first performance with the crew, and Minho was the only one he would talk to. Minho had put his hands on Felix’s shoulders, looked him in the eye, and told him to breathe in and out slowly. Within the next minute, Felix had calmed down and they’d executed their choreography flawlessly.

With a principle role, Minho’s got a little more at stake tonight.

“Five minutes till curtain!” the stage director shouts into the dressing room. Minho barely hears her, he’s been sitting in a tight ball in the corner of the room for the past five minutes. He’s tried breathing and running through the choreography in his head to calm him down, but that did the opposite. He buries his head in his hand and groans.

“Dude, are you okay?” Minho looks up to see Hyunjin staring down at him. For once, Hyunjin looks worried for another human, or at least for Minho.

Minho sighs and leans his head against the wall. He closes his eyes and says, “Yeah, I’m fine. Totally fine. It’s not like I have a principle role or anything that I could mess up.” Minho opens one eye to peek at Hyunjin’s reaction.

Hyunjin’s eye roll is so powerful, he can almost hear it. “Scooch over,” Hyunjin says, shoving Minho out of his pity corner. He makes himself comfortable next to Minho before speaking again. “You know, you’re like, really good at this.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “At what?”

Hyunjin spreads his hands out. “At this, you know, dancing. Performing in front of tons of people isn’t easy, but I know you love it,” Hyunjin looks at Minho. “I know you do, because I love it too. That’s why I’m here, because being onstage is the only time I get that feeling, you know the one. The one that’s like, you’re the most important thing in the whole world, because you’re on that stage and everyone’s watching you.”

Minho nods. Hyunjin captured it perfectly. It’s that feeling that keeps him coming back to dance no matter how many times he gets injured or doesn’t get a role. _I wonder if that’s why Jisung decided to go back to rapping, especially after that amazing slam performance._

“And because you’re a principle, that feeling’s gonna be multiplied by, like, a thousand,” Hyunjin says, smiling. “Just think about it: there’s gonna be a time tonight when nobody else is moving on the stage, and everyone’s gonna be watching you.” Minho starts breathing faster and Hyunjin shakes his head and puts his hands on Minho’s shoulders. “No, no, that’s not a bad thing. They’re gonna be watching you and you’re gonna take their breath away because of what you’re gonna do on that stage, okay?”

“Okay.” Minho nods, his breathing finally back to normal. “Can you help me stand up?” he asks, and Hyunjin rolls his eyes again. He stands up and grabs Minho’s arm, pulling him up from the floor. “Thanks, Hyunjin,” he says. “You’re a good friend.”

Hyunjin smiles, and Minho notices how happy he looks. “Thanks, Minho. I know you’d do the same for me,” he says. “You probably have, honestly. You’re like this crew’s emotional support system, we all come to you when we’re in trouble and stuff.”

Minho grins. “I guess I am,” he says.

“Two minutes till curtain!”

“Thank you!” the crew shouts.

Minho turns to Hyunjin. “We should probably get to the wings.”

"Yeah,” Hyunjin says, checking his stage makeup in the mirror. “Oh, before I forget,” he says, turning back to Minho, “break a leg!” He smiles and throws a few finger guns towards Minho.

Minho grins again. “You too, Hyunjin. Find Felix and tell him that from me, too.”

Hyunjin salutes him. “Will do, Mister Principle Dancer.” He dashes out of the dressing room door to the stage left wings.

Minho chuckles and finds his place in the first wing on stage right. He adjusts the cuff on his pants, which the costume designer had altered for him, and dares a peek out into the house.

The house lights are still on, so Minho can see the faces of the people in the audience. Their crew isn’t that well known, but Director Jung has contacts in the entertainment industry, so Minho knows there are a few big execs out there.

 _I mean, who doesn’t want to see the opening night show,_ Minho thinks. He tells his subconscious to shut up when the lights dim and the audience hushes up. The stage director makes a few announcements about cell phones and camera recording, which isn’t permitted, before rolling up the curtain to thunderous applause from the audience. Even their clapping sends Minho’s stomach doing somersaults.

He shakes his head and focuses on the music. He watches the corps run on and complete their choreography without a hitch, and starts counting the three eights until he goes on. He sees Hyunjin among the corps and smiles as he notices the other resisting the urge to scratch his nose.

 _One more eight,_ Minho thinks and tenses up as he prepares for his entrance. He winces when a sharp pain shoots up the back of his heel. He looks down at his leg. _Crap,_ he thinks and sticks it out behind him to get a last-minute Achilles stretch in before he darts out onstage.

The stage lights beat down on him as he enters and begins the choreography. Minho looks out at the audience, their faces obscured by darkness. He lets out a small smirk as he continues.

 _Hyunjin was right,_ Minho thinks as he explodes every movement with emotion. He sneaks another peek at the audience. Faintly, he can see the people in the front row gazing at him with awe. _I love this._ He steels himself as he waits for Yunho to finish his choreography before doing the turning leap into his arms and going up into the lift.

As he preps for the leap with a gallop, his leg decides to cramp up. He almost trips over his feet but manages to land the leap, only wobbling slightly before Yunho lifts him. Minho wobbles in the air too, and Yunho’s getting a bit shaky underneath him. _Just wait for the dismount,_ Minho tells himself, willing Yunho not to drop him.

Finally, the rest of the dancers reenter, encircling the two principles. Yunho moves to catch Minho in the dismount, but with all the shaking, Minho falls at a weird angle. His eyes open wide when he falls through Yunho’s grip and he hits the floor with a loud thud. Another sharp pain shoots up his leg, but this time, it’s from his ankle. The others keep dancing around them, doing their best to cover up Minho lying on the floor.

Yunho looks down at him nervously, still trying to carry out the choreography without Minho. His face pales when he sees Minho’s leg. Minho purses his lips in pain and does a half sit-up to look at his leg.

He nearly faints on the spot.

His leg is curled underneath him with his foot sticking out all wrong. He sighs with relief when he doesn’t see blood and tries to breathe evenly as the pain intensifies, like someone’s beating his foot with a hammer. Worry strikes him as he realizes that he’s still onstage and everyone’s going to see him lying there, injured when the corps dancers leave the stage again.

The corps members each give Minho a worried look as they leave the stage. Improvising, Yunho lifts Minho, carrying him off the stage as the music comes to a stop. Judging by the silence that follows, the audience doesn’t know whether to clap or stay silent for the dancer that got injured.

Once he’s offstage and Yunho sets him down, at least ten people come running over. Director Jung is one of them, cursing up a storm. Minho’s chest clenches when Director Jung wraps one of Minho’s arms around his shoulder and helps Yunho walk him back to the dressing room. Once he’s sitting in a proper chair, the costume designer rushes over. She helps Minho slip the costume off and get him into street clothes, avoiding touching his leg at all. Minho mumbles a soft “thank you,” to her as she hangs up his costume.

Felix and Hyunjin are there too. Felix looks like he’s about to cry and Hyunjin looks like he’s seen a ghost. When he starts seeing white from the pain, Minho grabs one of Felix’s small hands and squeezes it tightly, earning a squeak from Felix. Hyunjin holds onto Minho’s shoulders as if to make sure he’s still there.

Yunho returns from wherever he’d gone, phone in hand. “I called an ambulance,” Minho hears Yunho say. He doesn’t quite place the string of words and the motions Yunho’s mouth is making together. _Like the video and audio aren’t synced,_ Minho thinks. “They’ll be here in like two minutes, just hang in there.” Yunho rests a hand on Minho’s arm and lightly squeezes it.

Minho groans and complains, “I’m not important enough for an ambulance.” Felix gasps and squeezes Minho’s hand angrily.

“Minho, I would color you with a highlighter, you’re so important!” Felix says indignantly, and Minho nearly guffaws, except for the fact that the pain’s getting worse, it’s creeping up his leg now. It feels like someone’s stabbing it with a thousand needles, and on top of that, it’s on fire.

“Thanks, Felix,” Minho replies gently, trying to force the pain out of his voice. Minho looks up at Hyunjin, who hasn’t said anything this whole time. “Hyunjin, you good, buddy?” Minho asks. Hyunjin looks offended.

“Me? _You’re_ asking _me_ if I’m okay, and you’re the one with the broken leg?” Hyunjin says. Minho jerks his head up and looks down at his leg.

“My leg is broken?” he screams, but he doesn’t have enough strength in his voice for it to be loud.

Hyunjin shakes his head violently. “No, it’s not! I mean, we don’t really know that,” he stops when Felix glares at him. Hyunjin sighs and rubs Minho’s shoulders. “We won’t know until the doctors check it out.”

“The ambulance is here,” Yunho says and shuffles over to grab Minho. “I told them to park on the street near that emergency exit,” he says, pointing to the exit in the dressing room.

Hyunjin nods and grabs one of Minho’s arms, putting around his neck. He helps Yunho walk Minho out the exit and down the alley behind the performance center to the street Yunho had told them to park on.

“This is all my fault, man, I’m so sorry about this,” Yunho says as medics help Minho onto a stretcher.

Minho blinks at Yunho. “Dude, there is no way that this is your fault. Injuries happen to the best of us,” he says, grinning as he gestures at himself. Yunho cracks a small smile. “Don’t beat yourself up too much about this, okay?”

Yunho nods and purses his lips together. “I’ll try. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Minho says as he’s lifted into the back of the ambulance. He waves as Yunho heads back inside the performance center.

Minho tilts his head when he sees Hyunjin step into the back of the ambulance.

“Don’t look so surprised, I’m coming with you,” Hyunjin says, securing a seatbelt over his lap.

“Oh,” Minho says, laying all the way down on the stretcher. “That’s good.” He sighs as he looks at the roof of the ambulance and watches it get fuzzy. The medics say something about painkillers and Minho thinks that sounds like a good idea right about now.

He looks at Hyunjin once more before he gets a shot in his arm. “’Cause I really didn’t want to do this alone.” He grins at Hyunjin, who for a split second, looks like Jisung in Minho’s pain-delirious vision before he closes his eyes.

He's asleep before he remembers about Jisung’s debut stage.

***

Jisung usually gets a bad case of stage fright right before performing.

It happened before all the tests at the Academy, all the solo evaluations, even a tiny bit right before he went onstage at that poetry slam thing.

But tonight, Jisung’s worry-free.

Maybe it’s because he knows he’s going to get on that stage and shine as bright as the sun, and Minho’s going to be there to see it. Maybe it’s because he knows he looks good, since Chan styled him in another one of those suits, burgundy red this time, without a shirt underneath. Maybe it’s because he knows he’s ready to call himself a performer again.

“Chan, you ready?” Jisung asks, fiddling with a few chains looped around his neck.

“Uh-huh,” comes Chan’s reply as he shuffles out of the changing area. Jisung’s jaw drops when he sees Chan’s outfit. It’s just a shirt and pants, except his shirt so happens to be cropped. Like, cropped a _lot_.

“Chaeyoung must really enjoy that,” is the only reply Jisung can think of, especially with his brain exploding. Chan laughs and Jisung thinks he really can’t take anymore when Changbin appears next to Chan.

Wearing a tank top, of all things.

Jisung whistles. “We bouta be stealing hearts tonight,” he says, high-fiving Chan and Changbin. “You guys ready for this?”

They nod and all three of them put their hands on top of each other. “3racha on three, okay?” Chan says.

“One, two! 3RACHA get spotlight!”

“Okay, let’s get it!” Jisung says. He nearly bounds onto the stage, Chan and Changbin close behind him. All three are met with raucous applause as they wave to the crowd.

Chan stands behind the makeshift DJ station with all his equipment and his laptop with all of 3racha’s tracks on it. There’s a stark buzzing sound as he starts up his laptop and Jisung cringes at the sound. _Come on, Chan, let’s get it together,_ he thinks. He glances at Chan, who shoots him a quick thumbs-up and mouths, ‘we’re ready.’

Jisung nods and lifts the mic to his mouth. “Alright, everybody! Make, some, noise!” The crowd erupts with screams and Jisung smiles as he scans the faces for his friends.

Sure enough, there’s Chaeyoung at a table in the back, talking to an official-looking lady. She’s smiling, which is a good sign. Chaeyoung told them that if she likes 3racha, she’ll hire them again. He spots Felix’s blond head next to Chaeyoung, yelling his heart out for Changbin. Jisung’s heart flips. He knows if Felix is here, Minho can’t be too far away.

“Yo!” Chan shouts as the beat gets louder. “Illuminated by the light on my laptop! Chop chop, I’m cookin’ up a hot pot!”

Chan’s verse becomes white noise as Jisung starts frantically searching the crowd when he doesn’t see Minho, smiling and cheering like he should be, near Felix. Something clenches around his chest when he doesn’t see Minho’s face anywhere.

 _He wouldn’t… forget about me… would he?_ Jisung thinks. The crowd’s cheers become a low hum in his ears.

“Pick up the pace!” Jisung hears Chan scream, followed by the beat drop.

Jisung lowers his mic and his eyes start to burn as he looks out at the crowd. _He’s really not here._

“Yeah pick up the pace! Yeah pick up the pace!”

But Jisung’s heart seems to slow to a stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i really haven't updated this in a while, MY BAD. writer's block is a beast.  
> i'll be posting another chapter later today to make up for not posting. also i promise minsung is gonna be okay.  
> remember to wash your hands and stay safe!


	12. in which Seungmin is an Awkward Bean, but Hyunjin likes that

Maybe Hyunjin isn’t the best person to accompany Minho to the hospital.

For one, he gets scared easily, which is why he’s never been to a haunted house, much less a horror movie. And though Minho’s injury isn’t necessarily a bloody one, it still freaks Hyunjin out that his friend lost consciousness on the ride to the hospital.

The screams of the ambulance sirens aren’t helping him stay calm either. And with everyone all huddled in the back of the vehicle, Hyunjin’s finding it a little hard to breathe. He squeezes his eyes shut and sticks his fingers in his ears as he curls into as much of a ball as he can in the close quarters.

“Do you need earplugs?” one of the medics asks Hyunjin after tapping him on the shoulder. Hyunjin looks up after he takes his fingers out of his ears.

“Oh, I’m fine, thanks,” he says, not wanting to be problematic. The medic gives him a small smile and pats him on the back.

“Your friend’s gonna be okay, you know,” the medic says gently. Hyunjin looks at Minho lying on the stretcher. He looks peaceful now that he’s asleep, without his forehead scrunched up in pain.

Hyunjin sighs and rests his elbows on his knees. “Yeah, I hope so.”

***

“Yeeeeeaaaahhh, Changbin! That’s my man right there!” Felix screams at the top of his lungs. He’d never thought that 3racha was going to kill it on the stage, but he should’ve expected as much when Jisung is only one-third of 3racha, and Jisung’s one of the best performers he’s ever seen.

He’s so excited, he almost forgets about Minho being carted off to the hospital.

_Wait,_ Felix thinks. _Jisung doesn’t know._ He yanks his gaze away from Changbin, which is really hard since he’s wearing a tank top of all things, and looks at Jisung’s face. He squints to get a good look at him _. Jisung looks… tired?_ Felix tilts his head and stops screaming for the first time tonight. The Jisung on stage right now looks nothing like the Jisung he saw and practically drooled over at the poetry slam.

_I’ve gotta tell him, he deserves to know,_ Felix says as he leaves the table. _Shit, I should’ve texted him earlier._

Felix pushes through the throng of people to get as close to the stage as possible. Every other second, someone knocks into his shoulders or accidentally elbows him. Still, Felix forces his way to the front, trying to find Jisung.

“Hey, get out of the way, I know him!” Felix shouts. As if that’s going to make a difference. He shakes his head and waves to Jisung. “Hey! Jisung! Down here!”

Jisung, even in his potentially heartbroken state, looks stunning in another one of those shirtless suits and chain necklaces. Jisung kneels on the stage to get closer to Felix and smirks at some fans around him. Felix is pretty sure one of them faints, but he doesn’t bother to look. He’s got important, possibly relationship-saving information to tell.

“Wassup, Felix? You enjoying the show so far?” Jisung asks and takes out one of his in-ears. His voice is strained. His eyes flit to the people around Felix like he’s hoping Minho’s just going to appear. Felix’s heart screams for him when the hopeful glint dies in Jisung’s eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s amazing! Absolutely perfect!” Felix says above the music. “But that’s not what I came to tell you. You’re probably wondering where Minho is,” he says. Jisung’s eyes grow wide.

“You know where he is? Why is he not here? He promised me!” Jisung yells. Combined with the fierce stage presence, Felix wants to faint under his harsh glare. He puts his hands up to calm Jisung down.

“Hey, hey, chill out, it’s not what you think!” Felix says. Jisung narrows his eyes.

“Oh yeah? Then where is he?”

“Jisung, he’s in the hospital.”

Jisung blinks. He takes out the other in-ear piece and leans in closer to Felix. “I’m sorry. He’s _what.”_

“He’s in the hospital. There was an accident onstage during the showcase. His foot got all messed up.”

Felix can see the color drain from Jisung’s face as he processes what Felix said. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath. He turns to Felix with urgent eyes. “Which hospital?”

“The one by the university. Why? You can’t go now – ” Felix starts.

“Too late,” Jisung says and stands up. Felix watches as he walks over to Chan and tells him what’s wrong. Chan’s face scrunches up with worry when Jisung mentions the hospital and what happened to Minho’s foot. Chan nods and practically shoves Jisung offstage.

Changbin, who’s busy entertaining the crowd, doesn’t see any of that. So naturally, he’s surprised to turn around and find one member of his trio missing. He wanders over to Chan to ask about Jisung, and Chan tells him everything. Then, Chan points to Felix, who’s cheeks heat up as Changbin walks over.

“Hey, is Minho okay?” Changbin asks as he reaches out a hand to the fans.

Felix holds up one hand to grab Changbin’s hand. His heart soars as Changbin ignores all the other hands and clutches Felix’s. He smiles up at Changbin and says, “Yeah, I hope so.”

“Are you okay?” Changbin asks, lightly squeezing Felix’s hand.

Felix nods and squeezes back. “With you, I’m always okay.”

***

As a medical student on an internship, Seungmin’s seen plenty of people walk through the university hospital doors.

But today marks the day where not one, but _two_ above-average looking guys come through the doors, one of whom is unconscious on a stretcher.

Seungmin rushes over to help direct the medics to a room. “There should be an empty room down that corridor three doors down,” Seungmin says, pointing to the hall.

The medic is either burned out or just plain dumb because he just stares at Seungmin blankly. Seungmin sighs and turns to the above-average looking guy that’s not unconscious, and gives him a look like, ‘can you believe this guy?’ The guy snorts and tries to cover a smile with his hand.

“Fine, I’ll show you where it is, come on,” Seungmin says, leading the way. The guy falls into step with Seungmin and gives him a dimpled grin. Seungmin tries to smile back without looking awkward and prays to someone that his social ineptness doesn’t rear it’s ugly head right now.

“Hyunjin,” the guy says, holding out a hand to Seungmin as they walk. Seungmin tentatively takes it and shakes. _Is it just me, or is this an abnormally long handshake?_ Seungmin thinks and pries his hand out of Hyunjin’s grip.

“Hi, Hyunjin,” Seungmin says. He stops in front of room 19 and stands aside as the medics usher the unconscious guy through the door. Hyunjin stands on the other side of the door, out of the way of the medics, and looks at Seungmin curiously.

“And you are?” Hyunjin says, gesturing to Seungmin.

“Ah, right, sorry,” Seungmin says, heat rising to his cheeks. “I’m Seungmin. I’m an intern.”

“Hi, Seungmin the Intern,” Hyunjin says. The grin comes back to Hyunjin’s face and Seungmin’s face gets even hotter. _Is that grin for me?_

Seungmin gestures inside the room. “He your friend?” he asks and immediately regrets it when Hyunjin’s grin vanishes.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin sighs and peeks inside. Seungmin does the same. The medics are lifting Hyunjin’s friend off the stretcher and onto the hospital bed. Seungmin watches as Hyunjin’s face pinches with concern as the medics start immobilizing his friend’s leg.

“What happened to him?” Seungmin asks gently. Hyunjin tears his gaze away from his friend and fixes Seungmin with a resigned look.

“He fell onstage,” Hyunjin finally says. Seungmin watches him cross his arms like he doesn’t know what to do with them. “Came out of a lift wrong, probably landed on his foot. I didn’t see it though.” Hyunjin sighs and furrows his eyebrows. “And it was opening night too.”

Seungmin nods, even though he’s never danced or thought about dancing in his life. “That’s horrible,” he says. He fumbles around for more words to say. “Is he any good?”

"Is he any – ” Hyunjin says and looks almost offended by the question before he softens his gaze. “Right, you probably wouldn’t know.” He sighs again. “He’s one of the best.” The medics shuffle out of the room and Hyunjin slips inside as they file out.

One of the medics turns to Seungmin. “He’s on pain meds, probably’ll be asleep for a good half hour.” Seungmin nods. “His friend in there should be able to answer most of your questions until he wakes up. I’d call Dr. Kim and see if you can get him an MRI, it looks serious.”

Seungmin holds up a notepad and does a mini-salute to the medic. “Thanks,” he says and the medic waves as he follows the others to the hospital lobby.

Seungmin enters the room and swears Hyunjin’s face brightens when he does. “So,” he says, tapping his pen on the notepad, and a small smile on his lips. “Tell me everything.”

~

“Okay, I’ll give this to Dr. Kim when he’s ready for you guys,” Seungmin says. He stands up and makes his way to the door.

“Wait!” Hyunjin stands up abruptly and tugs on the sleeve of Seungmin’s shirt. Seungmin turns and tries to look Hyunjin in the eye without blushing. Which is really hard when he’s standing this close. _Curse above-average looking people,_ Seungmin thinks.

“Yeah?” he says. Hyunjin drops his hand from Seungmin’s sleeve and pulls out his phone.

“Can I get your number?” Hyunjin’s voice sounds smaller than it did before. He doesn’t meet Seungmin’s eyes as he unlocks his phone and goes to his contacts.

Seungmin grins inwardly and recites his number. “Thanks,” Hyunjin says as he sits back down in the chair next to his friend, Minho. “I’ll text you sometime.”

Then he winks, and Seungmin nearly falls apart.

“Yeah,” he says intelligently. Seungmin waves as he leaves the room. “See you around.”

“See ya, Seungmin.”

Seungmin tries to calm himself as he makes his way back to the lobby. He gives his notes to the receptionist who thanks him and calls Dr. Kim to room 19. He sighs as he slides onto a chair near the receptionist's desk and fiddles with his phone, something he never does while he’s ‘working.’ _Hyunjin’s got me checking my phone like the zoomer I never was,_ Seungmin thinks as he opens and closes the messaging app.

Seungmin tears his gaze away from his phone when he hears a thud at the doors. His eyes go wide with horror as he stands up and dashes to the doors. A guy is sprawled on the ground and an old lady who’d activated the automatic door is trying to talk to him, repeatedly saying how sorry she is.

“Hey, excuse me,” Seungmin says to the old lady. “Thank you, but I can handle this from here.” He ushers the old lady away as quickly as possible and goes back to the guy on the ground. “Come on, lemme help you up.”

He grabs the guy’s hand and puts a hand on his shoulder to steady him. Then his jaw drops, even though he’s not the type to gape at people.

He’s wearing a dark red suit that exposes his bare chest with tons of chain necklaces glinting against his skin. He’s got a few silver earrings that match the necklaces and smokey red eyeshadow covering his eyelids. If Seungmin hadn’t met Hyunjin earlier, he’d say this guy was the best-looking above-average looking person he’s ever met.

“Thanks,” the guy says and brushes off his suit pants. He looks at Seungmin quizzically. “You work here?”

“Um, I’m an intern, but yeah, I guess,” Seungmin says, cursing his stammering.

The guy latches his hand onto Seungmin’s wrist and fixes him with an intense glare. “Has a Lee Minho been admitted to this hospital?” The look in the guy’s eyes is borderline scary now, and Seungmin’s afraid that the guy has a history as a serial killer.

“Yeah, um, I was just checking on him,” Seungmin says. The guy grips his wrist even tighter.

“What room number?”

“Nuh – nineteen,” Seungmin stutters. The guy releases his wrist and yanks open the door to the hospital. Seungmin watches him jog through the lobby and salute the receptionist, who yells something along the lines of “you have to check in first!”

Seungmin sighs and trudges back inside the hospital, sinking into his chair. “Ugh, how rude of him,” the receptionist says haughtily. Seungmin would tell her to go after the guy and do her job properly, but he wouldn’t want anyone to get in that guy’s way.

_@ whoever’s up there, Seungmin thinks, please don’t let him be a serial killer, for Minho’s sake._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we'll be back to our regularly scheduled minsung programming soon, but i had to get some seungjin in there  
> also idk anything about how internships work in hospitals, so just disregard that, i tried  
> stay safe and wash your hands!


	13. in which the best boyfriend award goes to Jisung

Bright light hits Minho’s eyelids and all he can see is red from behind his closed eyes. His face scrunches up and he squints when he blinks, trying to get used to the light. There’s one of those giant fluorescent lights on the ceiling, which tells Minho one thing: he’s definitely not in his bed back at his dorm.

_Then where the heck am I?_

He turns his head to the side on the pillow and sees a small IV attached to his wrist. His eyes bug open and he starts breathing faster. If there’s one place Minho doesn’t like, it’s hospitals. And that’s definitely where he is right now.

Minho uses his elbows to prop himself up and tries to get fully sitting. His chest rises and falls as he starts panicking even more.

"Hey, hey, hey, Minho, what’re you doing?” A hand goes to his chest, pushing his torso back down onto the bed.

Minho stops struggling when he hears the voice. _I know that voice._ “J – Jisung?”

He looks up and meets Jisung’s eyes. There are dark circles underneath them and a substantial amount of eyeshadow that looks a bit smudged, probably from rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s me, now calm down,” Jisung says, not taking his hand off Minho’s chest. Minho takes a deep breath, eyes locked on Jisung’s. He covers Jisung’s hand with his own, rubbing the back of Jisung’s hand with his thumb. Jisung’s face seems to soften at the gesture and a small smile spreads across his lips. He lets out a short laugh when he realizes Minho’s calmed down.

“Why, why are you here?” Minho asks, threading his fingers through Jisung’s. His boyfriend sighs, puffing out his cheeks and pulls the uncomfortable chair he’d been sitting in over to the bed, not letting go of Minho’s hand.

Minho rolls his eyes up, thinking, then asks, “Why am I here?” Jisung sighs again, shaking his head and giggling, and squeezes Minho’s hand.

Jisung fixes Minho with a serious look before speaking. “Minho, I can’t believe you don’t remember. You fell onstage and fractured your ankle. Hyunjin brought you here and Felix told me at the debut stage, and I came right away.” Minho’s heart plummets at the end of Jisung’s explanation.

"No,” he says softly. He looks down at his leg. It’s all bandaged up and raised on a couple pillows. “Oh no. No, no, no.” He lolls his head back onto the pillows propping him up and squeezes his eyes shut. _Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry,_ he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut even tighter. He lets out a sigh, which comes out like a choked sob, and blinks at Jisung.

Minho sees the worry painted on Jisung’s face in bright colors, his exhaustion only magnifying it. He clamps his hand tighter on Jisung’s, trying to will the worry away.

“Can I – ” Minho starts, his throat closing up a little. “Will I be able to walk?”

Jisung gulps. “Um, the doctor said you should be cleared for walking in two or three months, long as you stay off your foot.” He looks down and fiddles with Minho’s fingers, obviously avoiding the elephant in the room.

_Oh no, here come the tears,_ Minho thinks. He takes a deep breath. “Will I be able to dance again?” He chokes on his words, eyes welling up when Jisung doesn’t look at him.

“I – the doctor said – he said maybe,” Jisung says, taking a while to decide on the words. “He said it’s a fifty-fifty chance, depending on your recovery.” Jisung finally looks up at Minho.

Minho’s eyes are closed, a tear squeezing out of the corner of his eye, trickling down the side of his face. “Oh, baby,” Jisung says and gets up out of his chair to wrap his arms around Minho. Minho only cries harder when Jisung embraces him, drenching the fabric on Jisung’s shoulder. _Can I even live in a world where I can’t dance?_

“If it’s worth anything,” Jisung says, mouth near Minho’s ear, “I think you can do whatever you want, anything you set your mind to.” He rubs Minho’s back as he heaves heavy sobs. After a bit, Minho’s crying subsides into sniffles and Jisung brings him a tissue.

“Thanks,” Minho says, blowing his nose. “Oh,” he says when Jisung dries under his eyes and cheeks with another tissue, gentle as ever. Jisung smiles, brightening up the room.

“Anything for you,” Jisung says. He takes the used tissues with a disgusted look on his face and throws them unceremoniously into the trash can, earning a snicker from Minho. The smile returns to Jisung’s face as he resumes his position holding Minho’s hand next to the bed.

Minho turns his head to Jisung. “Hey, what day is it?”

“Sunday.”

Minho blinks incredulously. “I’ve been here three days?”

Jisung nods, somewhat nonchalantly given the situation. “Yep. And two nights. It looked like you slept well, ‘specially with all those meds.”

Minho takes a moment to process, then narrows his eyes at Jisung. “Wait, you’ve been here the whole time I’ve been here?”

Jisung tilts his head in thought, then shakes his head. “No, I’d say I got here about an hour after the ambulance brought you here,” he replies, avoiding Minho’s glare. “At least, that’s what Hyunjin said.”

“Why didn’t you go back to the dorm? It’s right around here anyway,” Minho whines. “Now, not only did you miss out on your debut of a lifetime, you’ve had to sleep in that uncomfortable-ass chair for two nights in a row.” He ends his rant with a pout and looks away from Jisung, who laughs and pulls on Minho’s arm to get him to face him again.

“Minho, look at me,” he says, shaking Minho’s arm. Minho groans and rolls to face Jisung. “I appreciate you feeling guilty, and yes, this chair is uncomfortable as balls, but none of that is important right now.” Minho raises an eyebrow and Jisung huffs. “No, no, let me finish. Do you know what it’s like to find out your boyfriend is in the hospital? Do you?” Jisung stops and waits for an answer.

Minho looks down at their hands. “No.”

That’s what I thought,” Jisung says confidently. “Well, if you must know, it was like my world was coming down around me. Like a giant flood was washing me away, washing away everything I love. You’re important enough to me that I would drop everything to be with you if I thought you were gonna be washed away forever.”

Minho spots a tear sliding down Jisung’s face and his heart swells. He reaches up and flicks the tear away with his thumb. Jisung catches Minho’s thumb with his lips and sneakily plants a kiss on the pad of his thumb. Minho smiles to his eyes as Jisung holds his hand up to his face, kissing every fingertip and knuckle.

“There it is,” Jisung says as he intertwines their fingers again.

Minho furrows his eyebrows. “There’s what?”

“Your smile, the one where your eyes crinkle up,” Jisung says, gesturing to it with both of their hands. “It’s my favorite smile.”

Minho smiles even wider as he pulls Jisung close to him and brushes their lips together. They bump noses and foreheads, and even though Minho’s eyes are closed, he knows Jisung’s smiling. “I guess that makes you my favorite sunshine,” he mumbles into Jisung’s lips.

Jisung sighs into Minho and returns the kiss. “I love you so much.”

"I love you too, Sungie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is super short compared to the other chapters, but i feel like that's okay  
> also aaahhh 1k hits?! how?! that's incredible, so thank you, dear reader, for making it this far  
> side note, this chapter is probably my favorite chapter despite it being so short, so i really hope you guys enjoyed too!  
> (ngl i cried while writing and editing because of my own experience with dance injuries, minho i know how you feel)  
> i'm gonna go out on a limb and say there's gonna be two more chapters, one for the side characters, and one for minsung, so buckle up  
> again, thanks so much for reading and commenting and kudo-ing, and stay safe and wash your hands!


	14. Chan is the nation's boyfriend/Hyunjin knows how to dance/Felix hates rollercoasters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the timeline may not be clear, and that's because i have no idea what the timeline is in these snippets. welcome to the mind of a writer, everyone.  
> just imagine that it's a week after minho got injured.  
> enjoy!

Chan’s probably what you would call a scatterbrain – it comes with being bilingual. He sometimes forgets certain words in both languages and ends up speaking both at the same time. And after he started pulling all-nighters to make music, the space in his brain for remembering things got smaller. Needless to say, his forgetfulness has lead to some interesting situations that made funny stories to tell Chaeyoung.

Which is why he’s running down the street in flip flops and shorts at six in the morning.

 _I can’t believe I almost forgot,_ Chan thinks, teeth chattering. He forgot a jacket too. _Again._ He skids around the corner, nearly smacking into a lamppost and jogs toward the grocery store.

“Hey, good morning?” he says to the security guard at the door. The guard gives him a funny look and Chan mentally facepalms himself. _I said that in English, didn’t I._

He shrugs it off and cruises through the shopping aisles. A judgmental-looking lady gives him the once over as he walks down the canned soup aisle. Chan rolls his eyes as he dodges her cart and makes his way to the floral section at the back of the store.

The clerk brightens when she sees Chan. “Hey, man, what’re you doing here so early?”

Chan smiles sheepishly. “Hi, Jihyo,” he says. “It’s, uh, my anniversary. One year.” He scratches the back of his neck as Jihyo claps her hands together excitedly.

“Aw, I’m so happy for you guys! Anyway, what do you need? I can get an arrangement for you by the end of the week,” Jihyo says, moving behind the computer at the register.

“That’s the thing,” Chan says. “It’s today. Do you have anything premade?”

Jihyo stops typing and glares at Chan so hard he almost falls over. “Oh my god, you didn’t forget again, did you?”

“I wouldn’t say I forgot, it just, slipped my mind.”

“That’s called forgetting, Chan, you dimwit,” Jihyo says. She sighs and steps into the greenhouse behind the checkout stand. Chan rocks back and forth on his heels, twiddling his thumbs until Jihyo pops back out of the greenhouse, a bouquet in hand.

“Here, these should do,” Jihyo says, thrusting the bouquet at Chan, who nearly drops it. “That’ll be eleven fifty.”

“Oh, uh,” Chan says from behind the flowers. “I think I forgot my wallet.”

He hears Jihyo try to muffle a scream in her sleeve and lowers the flowers so he can see her. She’s holding her head in her hands. Chan feels sorry that she’s got to deal with him. “You know what? It’s on me. But you better pay me back when you find that wallet, Chan,” Jihyo says sternly, but a smile’s spreading on her face.

Chan smiles back. “Thanks so much, Jihyo. I owe you one.” He tears the tag off the bouquet so Jihyo can scan it and turns to leave the store.

“You owe me a lot more than one!” Jihyo calls at his back, and Chan’s smile spreads a little wider.

~

Chan unlocks the door of his apartment and opens the door quietly, because of all things, he did remember his key. He peeks inside, covering the flowers with the door, to make sure Chaeyoung’s not awake before entering and closing the door just as quietly behind him.

“Ahem.”

“Augh!” Chan jumps and nearly throws the flowers in the air. He turns and looks at Chaeyoung, who has one eyebrow raised. “Whew,” Chan says, clutching a hand to his chest as he walks into the apartment. “You really scared me. I thought you were asleep.”

"And until I woke up, I thought you were, too,” Chaeyoung replies, holding up one pinky finger. It's one of the secret signals they came up with so Chaeyoung could nonverbally tell Chan which pronouns to use: pinky finger up for she/her, thumb up for he/him, and both for in between days when Chaeyoung felt like both or neither. She crosses her arms after Chan sees the signal and juts her chin in his direction. Chan gulps. “Flowers?”

“Um,” Chan says, shifting the bouquet from hand to hand. “Yeah, they’re for you,” he says lamely, holding them out. When Chaeyoung doesn’t make a move to take them, Chan drops his arms. “You don’t have to take ‘em if you don’t want ‘em, though.”

“Chan, I don’t give a damn about the flowers, I care about you,” Chaeyoung says, taking a step closer. Chan meets her eyes, the warmest brown ones he’d gotten lost in a long time ago. “When I woke up and you were gone, I was so worried. I didn’t know what to think.” Chaeyoung takes another step towards Chan; she’s close enough to reach out and grab Chan’s hand, and she does. “And I couldn’t text you because you’d left your phone on the table, and I didn’t know where you possibly could’ve gone without your wallet, and I just thought you had – ”

Chaeyoung stops when Chan yanks her closer and presses his lips to hers. She sighs into the kiss and brings one hand up to the back of Chan’s neck, entangling her fingers in Chan’s too-long hair. Chan smiles into Chaeyoung’s lips and lets the flowers drop to the floor, cupping Chaeyoung’s cheek with his now free hand.

When Chan pulls back, the warm glow is back in Chaeyoung’s eyes. “I love you,” he says simply, placing a chaste kiss to Chaeyoung’s lips. His lips quirk as he notices Chaeyoung blushing. “Happy anniversary.”

Chaeyoung smiles and pulls Chan into a hug. They stand like that for a while in the middle of the small apartment, flowers at their feet. “I love you too, Channie. Always.”

***

**_4:47 p.m._ **

**_Hyunjinnie:_ ** _hey, wanna come over and watch Netflix?_

_**Hyunjinnie:** they just released a new anime~_

Hyunjin looks at his sent texts and groans, flopping back onto his bed. His phone ends up somewhere at the end of his bed. _Why is texting so hard?_ He complains to himself and sighs. It’s not five seconds before he gives in and reaches for his phone again. The screen lights up when he holds it up to his face and his heart does a sad little spin when he sees there are no notifications.

 _Well, it’s a Friday night,_ Hyunjin thinks. _He might be busy. If I had more friends, maybe I would be too._ He sighs again and gropes for his earbuds, which he left on the tiny table next to his bed. He plugs them in and opens Spotify, scrolling to his most listened-to playlist, which consists of a lot of GOT7 songs. He lets the music stream through his ears and lays his head back on his pillow, closing his eyes.

The first song hasn’t even finished when a metallic ding sounds through Hyunjin’s earbuds. He jolts to sitting and grabs his phone, smiling when he reads the text notification.

**_Minnie:_ ** _sure, i’d love to~_

_**Minnie:** want me to bring some microwave popcorn?_

Hyunjin’s fingers hit the keyboard like lightning as he types out a response.

**_Hyunjinnie:_ ** _um, popcorn? yes pls_

He sends it and jiggles his foot as he waits for a response. His heart seems to beat faster in his chest when he sees the texting bubble.

**_Minnie:_ ** _great! be there in ten_

Hyunjin kicks his feet in tiny as he reads Seungmin’s response. He sits up and presses play on his playlist again, and starts cleaning up his room. He picks up the clothes strewn on the floor, the KT tape that had fallen out of his dance bag, and notes for his physics exam that he’s probably going to fail anyway.

Nine minutes later, Hyunjin stands in the doorway of his room, surveying his work. He nods proudly at himself and puts his hands on his hips. He whips his head around when he hears a knock on the door. He sprints to the door and skids to a stop, pulling it open, revealing a smiling Seungmin.

“Hey,” Seungmin says. He rubs the back of his neck and looks down at the floor before fully making eye contact with Hyunjin. Hyunjin feels the tips of his cheeks get warm when Seungmin looks at him, especially when he notices the slight pink tinge occupying Seungmin’s cheeks as well.

“Hi,” Hyunjin says brightly, stepping aside. “Come on in.” Seungmin smiles wider and steps through the door, slipping off his shoes. Hyunjin grabs the sleeve of Seungmin’s sweater and drags him to his newly cleaned room.

“I, uh, don’t have a couch or anything,” Hyunjin starts, all of a sudden feeling embarrassed by the size of his dorm room. “So, I was thinking we could just watch on my bed. That okay?” he asks, turning to Seungmin. The last thing Hyunjin wants is for Seungmin to be uncomfortable and leave. He really wants to get to know him and be maybe his friend.

Seungmin responds by flopping down on Hyunjin’s mattress, making himself comfortable by cuddling the giant pillow. “Yeah, that’s fine,” Seungmin says, scooting over so Hyunjin can sit down next to him. Hyunjin reaches for his laptop, an old Dell, and boots it up. They’re both leaning with their backs against the wall, shoulders touching, as the laptop takes forever to load.

“Sorry,” Hyunjin says. “It’s pretty old.”

“That’s okay,” Seungmin says. “Mine’s old too. Besides, this way, we can talk while we wait.” He nods to the earbuds still plugged into Hyunjin’s phone. “What kind of music you into?”

Hyunjin smiles, ready to launch into his second favorite topic, dance being the first. “Well, my favorite artist has got to be GOT7, but I like a lot of pop and EDM stuff, ‘cause they’re fun to dance too, you know?” Hyunjin turns his head to look at Seungmin and is surprised to see that their faces are really close. Like, almost nose-nuzzling close. Not that Hyunjin’s thinking about that.

Seungmin lets out a one-syllable laugh. “Well, I don’t really dance, so I guess I don’t know,” he says, fiddling with his fingers. He faces Hyunjin again. “Do you know Day6? They’re my favorite band.”

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow. “Day6? Probably? I’ve never heard their songs before though.”

Seungmin smiles and pulls out his phone. “You haven’t? Oh, we’re going to fix that. Right now.” Hyunjin watches as Seungmin opens his Spotify and loads a playlist of Day6 songs. He scrolls until he finds one he deems appropriate for Hyunjin’s first listen, and presses play. Seungmin closes his eyes as he listens to the song coming from the tinny speakers of his phone.

Hyunjin finds himself smiling as he watches Seungmin bop his head to the music. He has to admit, it’s got a good melody: not too fast and not too slow. There’s a tingle in Hyunjin’s arms so he pushes himself off the bed and starts dancing to the song.

Seungmin opens one eye and practically guffaws when he sees Hyunjin’s freestyle. “I thought you were a dancer?” he says to Hyunjin, raising one eyebrow. Hyunjin laughs too and extends one hand to Seungmin, his legs still moving to the beat.

“Oh yeah? Could you do any better? Show me what you got,” Hyunjin says. Seungmin rolls his eyes. “Come on,” Hyunjin whines and tries to make his eyes look bigger. He beckons Seungmin with his hand, and Seungmin rolls his eyes again. He grabs Hyunjin’s outstretched hand and uses it to pull himself off the bed.

“Fine, I’m up,” Seungmin says. He’s just standing there like he doesn’t know what to do, and Hyunjin almost laughs. Seungmin notices Hyunjin’s stifled laughter and narrows his eyes. “Well, okay, dancing king, why don’t you show me how it’s done.”

Seungmin crosses his arms and stares at Hyunjin, but his pursed lips tell Hyunjin he’s pretending to be serious. Of course, Hyunjin wouldn’t even _dream_ of pretending to be serious, so to demonstrate the dance skills he’s acquired over four years of practice, he holds his hands up a little ways away from his face and starts swinging his hands and his head left and right to the beat.

Seungmin’s hand goes to his mouth, obviously covering a laugh, so Hyunjin adds a little tap step with his right foot, just a shuffle and a toe tap behind his leg to finish, and spreads his hands out like jazz hands.

“And that,” Hyunjin says, standing up straight and assuming a serious tone all of a sudden, “is how you dance, Kim Seungmin.” Seungmin’s hand falls from his mouth and he stares at Hyunjin, who just blinks and nods solemnly.

That’s when Seungmin bursts out laughing so hard he falls to the floor. Hyunjin snickers at Seungmin’s reaction and starts giggling.

Seungmin looks up at him from the floor. “I didn’t think you had it in you to keep a straight face through all that,” he says, still wheezing a little. Hyunjin holds out a hand to pull him up off the floor and Seungmin takes it. Hyunjin’s heart does a happy pirouette when Seungmin doesn’t let go of his hand.

“I didn’t. That’s why I laughed,” Hyunjin says. He tries not to look down at their hands, but his happy heart wins out because it wants to make sure this is real, so he glances down at their intertwined hands. Seungmin notices and does the same, cheeks flushing when he looks back up at Hyunjin.

The song changes to a slower song. The strong piano chords resonate in the room, even though the phone speakers hardly do it justice. Hyunjin lets out a small smile and reaches for Seungmin’s other hand. He starts swinging their hands back and forth between them and sways to the music. Seungmin looks down at his feet and laughs. He says something so softly, Hyunjin can’t hear it.

“What was that, Seungmin?” Hyunjin asks, leaning down so his nose brushes Seungmin’s fluffy hair.

“I can’t – ” Seungmin starts without looking up. He laughs before he can continue. Hyunjin tugs on Seungmin’s hands and Seungmin finally looks up. Hyunjin nods for him to continue and Seungmin sighs. “I can’t dance.”

Hyunjin laughs and rubs Seungmin’s knuckles with his thumbs. “That’s the beauty of dance, Seungmin. You don’t have to know how to do it. You just do it.” Seungmin peeks up at Hyunjin from under his eyelashes, which look really long, now that Hyunjin’s looking at them. He knows he’s fallen too far when his gaze travels down to Seungmin’s lips and his heart does another happy spin.

Seungmin starts swaying with Hyunjin and smiles when Hyunjin smiles at him. He laughs when Hyunjin raises his arm up for Seungmin to twirl underneath it. Once he does one twirl, Seungmin faces Hyunjin again, except he’s standing much closer, so close Hyunjin can count his long eyelashes.

Seungmin grins and untangles their fingers. Hyunjin pouts; he’d wanted to keep holding Seungmin’s hand. Instead, Seungmin wraps his arms around Hyunjin’s neck and leans his head on Hyunjin’s shoulder. Hyunjin’s so surprised his hands freeze at his sides and he starts breathing faster.

Seungmin chuckles and nuzzles into Hyunjin’s neck. “Put your arms around me, you dummy,” he says. Hyunjin obeys and wraps his arms around Seungmin’s waist. They kind of just stand there, in Hyunjin’s room, swaying. Hyunjin wonders if Seungmin can feel his heart beating in his chest.

_"Never say goodbye~ Because you and I are one~”_

Hyunjin sighs at the lyrics and closes his eyes. _I don’t really want to say goodbye to him. Can he just stay here? With me?_

 _H_ yunjin hugs Seungmin tighter as the last chords of the song dwindle into silence and the song comes to an end.

_I hope our story is far from over._

***

“Wassup, everyone, it’s Felix, back at it again with – ”

“Felix, are you seriously filming right now?”

Felix looks away from the vlog camera and gives Changbin a salty glare. “It’s for the channel, babe. I’ve gotta provide the people with the content they want.” He makes a mental note to edit this section of footage.

Changbin stares back at Felix equally as salty. “I get that, but do you really have to film our date?” He crosses his arms and Felix gulps, his confident façade melting a bit. Felix lowers the camera.

“Well, ever since I posted the video of you guys rapping Matryoshka, which got over a million views, by the way, my channel kinda kicked off, so I just wanted to get more content that people like and – ”

“Felix, are you using me for clout?” Changbin says bluntly. His eyes bore into Felix’s and Felix gulps again. He’d be more scared if he knew Changbin was going to hurt him, but he knows Changbin would never do that.

“Not exactly,” Felix says, juggling for a good excuse. “It’s just that being your boyfriend has its perks. Like maybe I can film you and the YouTube algorithm will do its thing and – ”

Changbin moves so quickly Felix doesn’t have time to react and snatches the camera out of Felix’s hand. Felix’s mouth hangs open, offended, as Changbin stuffs the camera into his pocket.

“There, no more problems,” Changbin says and grabs Felix’s hand, sliding their fingers together. “And because you were about to explain how you were extorting me and our relationship, we’re riding the Aftershock.”

“No!” Felix whines and digs his heels into the dirt. Unfortunately, Changbin’s crazy strong, so he ends up dragging Felix all the way to the insane rollercoaster. Changbin’s grip on Felix’s small hand remains tight as they get in line. Felix pouts and shakes their hands, trying to get Changbin to release him.

“Changbinnie,” he whines again, jutting out his lip for maximum effect, “you know I’m scared of rollercoasters. Why would you make me do this?” Hope whirs in Felix’s chest when Changbin’s eyes soften and his fingers fiddle with Felix’s hand.

“Felix,” Changbin starts, “I think it’s time you face your fear. That’s why I’m doing this.” Changbin smiles, almost evilly, and pulls Felix closer to him. He doesn’t let the squirming Felix free until they’re at the front of the line.

Felix looks up at the rollercoaster. The track goes straight up to the sky at one point, and the ride just stops. The people riding it are stopped right now, feet dangling as they look up into the sky, until the ride starts again and the people fall straight down and get sent down a spindly track that goes upside down so many times Felix gets dizzy just looking at it.

He turns to Changbin as the ride slows to a stop and people start getting out. “I don’t think I can do this,” he says. Changbin’s eyes soften once again and he holds Felix’s hand tighter still.

“Felix, I think you can do anything,” Changbin says, dragging him to the coaster. Felix lets out a sound akin to a dying fish as he sits down and Changbin lowers the bar. Felix sends a mental thank you to Changbin for buckling him in with all the straps because his fingers are shaking.

Felix starts taking deep breaths as the park worker walks down the line of carts and checks the bar, locking them as she does so. Changbin squeezes Felix’s hand.

“You good?” he asks.

Felix nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

Then, the ride starts.

“Oh, oh no. Oh fuck, oh my fucking – shit, ah, no, fuck!” Felix swears as the ride starts, a steady stream of curse words flowing out of his mouth as the ride picks up speed.

Changbin looks over at Felix, confused. “Are you swearing in English?” Felix opens his eyes because apparently they were closed and looks at Changbin.

“Um, I guess I am,” Felix admits, and swears again as the ride starts climbing up the vertical track. He squeezes his eyes shut and just focuses on squeezing the life out of Changbin’s hand.

~

“Never, _ever,_ make me do that again,” Felix says, leaning over a trashcan near the exit of the rollercoaster. He heaves again and pushes his face further into the can. He feels a warm hand on his back and smiles, then heaves again.

“I promise,” Changbin says, “I will never make you do that again.” Felix stands up straight and Changbin hands him a few napkins and a bottle of water. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone swear that much, ever.”

"Sorry ‘bout that,” Felix says, wiping his mouth and downing half the bottle. “Must’ve been my survival instinct kicking in.” He chucks the napkins in the trashcan and takes a few more sips of water as he and Changbin walk through the amusement park.

“If your survival instinct is swearing like a maniac, then you might be in trouble.”

“Hey!” Felix shouts and slaps Changbin’s arm. Changbin fakes being hurt while Felix laughs.

“I feel kinda bad about putting you through that, though,” Changbin says, stopping in front of a food stand. He points to the popcorn. “Caramel or regular?”

“Caramel,” Felix says. He forks over a bill and Changbin matches it and hands it to the worker, who hands Changbin a giant bag of caramel popcorn. Changbin tears open the top of the bag and grabs a big handful. Felix takes another sip of water before sticking his hand in as well.

“Anyway,” Changbin says, mouth somewhat full, “is there anything you wanna do here?”

Felix looks around their immediate surroundings for a non-vomit inducing ride. _Bumper cars, another rollercoaster, Dippin’ Dots, strength hammer, claw machine, oh –_

_Perfect._

Felix takes Changbin’s hand and drags him to a short line. Changbin nearly spills the popcorn as Felix yanks him to the line. He groans when he realizes what it is.

“Ferris wheel? Really, Felix?” Changbin complains. Felix nods excitedly, eyes turning into crescents as he smiles.

“Yep. Romantic, huh?”

“And cliché,” Changbin says. Felix tugs him forward as the line moves.

Felix leans into Changbin and rests his head on his shoulder. “But you love me, right?” He blinks up at Changbin who merely rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I do,” Changbin says and follows Felix into one of the Ferris wheel cars. Felix closes the door behind them and lowers the bar. Changbin’s clutching the bag of popcorn like his life depends on it and won’t look at Felix.

Felix crosses his arm and pouts as the wheel starts moving. “If you love me, then why won’t you look at me?”

Changbin sighs and turns to Felix. “I – ”

Changbin gets cut off when the wheel stops suddenly. Alarmed, Felix peeks his head out of the car and tries to locate the operator. The operator is fiddling with the controls hurriedly, and when she can’t fix it, she reaches into her back pocket for her phone and holds it up to her ear.

“Everyone, stay calm!” she shouts up at the riders. “The repair crew will be here soon!”

“Ugh!” Felix groans as he sits back down in the chair and crosses his arms again. “What’s the point of this thing if it doesn’t move?”

Changbin scoots closer to Felix and leans into him, the popcorn bag forgotten on the other end of the bench. “Well, if you look on the bright side,” he says, looking at Felix, “it’s just the two of us up here.” He smiles and wraps an arm around Felix’s waist.

Felix can pinpoint the moment his face becomes a strawberry, his freckles dotting his face like the seeds of the berry. An embarrassed smile finds its way to his lips and he grins at Changbin. His eyes are sparkling, not unlike the stars dotting the sky.

“Felix,” Changbin says, leaning closer, “can I kiss you?”

Felix’s face gets even hotter and he ducks his head. “Changbin, I threw up literally ten minutes ago, and you wanna kiss me right now?” He raises a questioning eyebrow at his boyfriend.

“I always wanna kiss you,” Changbin replies, gaze not wavering. “But if it makes you feel any better, I might have a mint.” Felix giggles as Changbin digs around in his pocket. He presents a box of mints and Felix picks one and pops it in his mouth. He cuddles into Changbin as he waits for the mint to dissolve and just looks at the sky. Changbin grips his waist tighter as he pulls Felix closer.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Felix says and sits up. Changbin grins and rests his hands on Felix’s cheeks, his thumbs brushing over every freckle.

You’re so goddamn beautiful,” Changbin says. Felix smiles, eyes becoming crescents again as Changbin leans in. Felix closes his eyes as Changbin kisses him and tilts his head and wraps his arms around Changbin’s neck.

Cheers erupt from the Ferris wheel passengers as the wheel starts moving again. Felix smiles into Changbin’s lips as the wheel moves. As far as Felix is concerned, those people are cheering for him and Changbin. Because why not, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope i did all of them justice. and yes, i know jeongin's not in it, but my only plan for him was to have him burst in on hyunjin and seungmin but i didn't wanna ruin the moment, because seungjin were having a MOMENT  
> let's pretend stray kid's 'neverending story' is by day6 for the story because i love that song so much  
> also if anyone's wondering what the aftershock rollercoaster is, look it up, it's terrifying, which is why i've never been on it  
> hope y'all are safe and washing your hands! stay tuned for the final chapter! augh i'm sad this fic is coming to an end. thanks for coming along on this wild minsung (plus a little bit of my other fave ships) ride!


	15. Endgame: Minsung

“I don’t like it,” Jisung says. Felix gives him a strange look from the other side of the couch, his face stuffed with popcorn.

“Whaff d- yew- mean,” Felix says unintelligibly, then swallows and continues, “you don’t like what?” He puts down his controller after pausing the game he and Jisung were playing. Jisung had died minutes ago and had been counting on Felix to get them to the next checkpoint, but he’d gotten distracted. Again.

Jisung nods his head toward the door of Minho’s bedroom. “He’s still in there,” Jisung says. “I’ve been here for, what, half an hour, and he hasn’t come out to see me and shower me with love like boyfriends do?”

“Well,” Felix says, grabbing another handful of popcorn, “he _is_ kinda bedridden right now.” He stuffs the popcorn into his mouth.

“The hospital gave him crutches, Felix. I know, I was there.”

"You could walk over there and see him,” Felix points out. Jisung huffs and falls back on the couch.

“True, but I feel like that’s intruding. What if he doesn’t wanna see me? I mean, it has been a week-ish since I saw him.” Jisung picks at a hangnail while Felix sputters at him.

“Han Jisung,” Felix says, crawling across the couch to look Jisung dead in the eye. He tries to glare, and Jisung would be terrified, except this is Felix. Lee Felix, who used to cover up his freckles in high school because he thought the galaxy on his cheeks was ugly.

“You stayed in the hospital with Minho in an uncomfortable-ass chair instead of finally being able to pursue your dream as a musician and an artist. I don’t think Lee Minho, yes, that mopey, cat-lover in there,” Felix says while pointing to the room, “could ask for a better partner. Unless it’s me, ‘cause I’ve known him longer, but that’s not the point. Also, Changbin would kill me.” Felix shudders and Jisung nearly laughs, despite Felix’s semi-serious pep talk-speech.

Jisung cranes his neck over the back of the couch and looks at the door of Minho’s room again. He turns back to Felix. “You think I should go in there?” he asks, biting his lip.

Felix nods and backs away, digging his hand into the popcorn bowl once again. “Definitely,” Felix says. “But, uh, brace yourself. You haven’t seen him since you brought him here after the hospital, and, uh, well, it’s taken a toll on him.” Felix’s lips are pursed and concern for his friend flits across his eyes.

Jisung nods and pushes himself off the couch. “Thanks, Felix. But I think we’ll be okay.” He tiptoes to the door and presses his ear to it. He knocks once, twice, three times, then says, in the gentlest voice, “Minho? It’s me, it’s Jisung. I’m coming in, okay?” Then, he opens the door.

Jisung hits his toe on a soda can when he walks into Minho’s room. It’s not the only piece of trash littering Minho’s room; there’s empty ramen bowls, pocky boxes and coffee cups on the floor and Minho’s bed. Something tugs at Jisung’s heart when he lays his eyes on Minho. He’s curled up as much as possible with his injured leg in a boot and propped up on a short stack of pillows, and his head is facing the wall. Jisung sees an earbud embedded in one of Minho’s ears, but he’s not sure whether there’s any music playing since Minho looks like he’s asleep. Jisung closes the door behind him and leans against it, still clutching the doorknob.

“Minho,” Jisung says softly. Minho’s body doesn’t move. Jisung sighs and steps over the trash on the floor to the bed. He kneels next to Minho’s head and blows on his ear. “Minho, talk to me.”

Jisung hears a huff from Minho and perks up. _At least he’s awake,_ Jisung thinks. He puts his hand on Minho’s arm and tries to roll him over. Minho resists before Jisung yanks on his arm and he nearly falls off the bed.

“Jisung!” Minho screeches, gripping onto Jisung’s shoulder for dear life. “The hell are you doing?”

“Trying to talk to my boyfriend. Better question is: what have _you_ been doing? It’s a legit dump in here.” Jisung gestures to the mess of the room and something flashes in Minho’s eyes before he flops back down onto his pillow.

“Felix keeps bringing me stuff,” Minho says, “bless him, I’d have given up on me a long time ago.” Minho holds his face in his hands and Jisung reaches up to pry them away. He holds them gently, caressing Minho’s palms as he sits on the edge of the bed.

"Why don’t you get up and do stuff yourself?” Jisung asks.

“I – ” Minho starts. He sighs and swallows before starting again. “This is gonna sound really stupid, but I don’t wanna use the crutches.” Jisung narrows his eyes at him. “My professors gave me a week for recovery, and without classes, I don’t really have a reason to get out of bed, you know. So, I’ve kinda just been here, existing and staring at that ugly-ass boot and trying not to rip my hair out.” Minho grips Jisung’s hands and looks at him, almost desperately. “Jisung, do you know how hard it is to sit here while Hyunjin and Felix get to go to class and rehearsal and, just, fucking _perform_ while I’m here with this goddamn _boot_ on my fucking foot?” By the end, Minho’s the closest he’s ever come to yelling at Jisung. He collapses onto his pillow and squeezes his eyes shut, and Jisung can see a few tears fall out the corners of his eyes.

Jisung waits for Minho to breathe normally before he rests his head on Minho’s chest. Minho peeks through his eyelashes to look at Jisung, and Jisung swears Minho smiles for half a second.

“Hey, Minho,” Jisung says. He feels Minho’s chest vibrate underneath him in response. “I know this really fucking sucks for you, there’s really no other way to put it. But you can’t just sit here and eat convenience store ramen for three months until you can dance again. It’s not healthy for you, physically and mentally.” Jisung pauses and sits up. He tugs on Minho’s hands and pulls him up to sitting.

Minho hangs his head and looks everywhere but Jisung. Jisung releases Minho’s hands and cups Minho’s face, turning his head to face him. Minho looks like he’s about to cry even more than just a second ago. Jisung’s shoulders droop when he sees the look on Minho’s face.

“Because, baby,” Jisung says, touching his forehead to Minho’s, “I believe you’re stronger than anything this world can throw at you. Including,” Jisung stops to rap his knuckles on Minho’s boot, “this injury. You get me?” Minho lets out a sad little laugh and tries to look away from Jisung. “Hey, don’t look away from me!” Jisung holds Minho’s face tighter and Minho laughs happier this time.

“You’re unbearable, you know that?” Minho says. Jisung smiles.

"I thought I was your sunshine?”

“You’re like the desert sun: unbearable and annoying,” Minho retorts.

“Are you saying I’m too hot for you?” Jisung says, raising one eyebrow comically.

“Ha! If anything, _I’m_ the one that’s out of _your_ league, Han,” Minho says. His lips are getting closer to Jisung’s.

“And yet you picked me anyway,” he says with a smirk. He tilts Minho’s face up and his hands trail down Minho’s neck.

"I sure did,” Minho says, reaching up to meet Jisung’s lips. Jisung closes his eyes as Minho works his magic, letting his mind fill up with Minho.

Jisung pulls away after a bit and opens his eyes. Minho’s eyes are still closed, his lips glossy with spit. His eyes flutter open slowly and he looks at Jisung with an awkward smile. His rumpled bedhead just adds to the look, and Jisung’s heart nearly cartwheels out of his ribs.

“I’m so hopelessly in love with you,” Jisung blurts. Minho giggles, a soft pink coating his cheeks.

“I’m glad you feel the same way I do, Sungie.”

Jisung grins so hard it hurts his cheeks. His hands drop from Minho’s neck and he pushes himself off the bed, extending a hand to Minho. “Alright, come on. I’m getting you out of this dorm.”

Minho sighs and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. “The crutches are in there.” Minho points to the tiny closet and Jisung scrambles over the trash to retrieve them. “Thanks,” Minho says as Jisung helps him stand up and get balanced on the crutches.

“Um, before we go anywhere, I should probably shower,” Minho says sheepishly. “I haven’t showered all week.”

Jisung retches and doubles over. “Oh god, so _that’s_ what that awful smell is! Go, go,” Jisung says, shooing Minho out of the room. “Clean yourself, please.”

Minho laughs and pulls open the door. “Oh,” he looks back at Jisung. “Could you, maybe…”

“Yes, I’ll clean up the trash, just for the love of god, _shower._ ”

“You’re the best, Jisung.”

“I know, now shower!”

Minho laughs his way out of his room and by the sound of his crutches on the floor, barely makes it a few feet before he’s attacked by Felix. Jisung shakes his head and starts gathering the trash in a small pile.

~

“So, where exactly are we going?” Minho asks. His crutches had been the only sound between him and Jisung for a couple blocks and he needed to break the silence.

Jisung smiles brightly at him. “Well, I thought a good way to cheer you up would be to go to the place where we met.”

“You mean the café?”

Jisung nods. “I checked before we left, and apparently there’s a slam tonight. How perfect is that?” Jisung balls his hands into tiny fists and wiggles around excitedly. Minho laughs softly as they keep walking. He looks over at Jisung. The sun hits his skin and turns it a beautiful gold, and his smile glints in the light. _Han Jisung, the things you do to my heart._

“It’s perfectly perfect,” Minho says as they round the corner and cross the street. Jisung leads the way to the café, leaving Minho struggling to keep up with his excited boyfriend.

“Whoa, there’s a crowd,” Jisung says when Minho catches up, somewhat out of breath. Minho nods, too tired to form words, and follows Jisung as he pushes through the crowd to secure a table. “Hey, my boyfriend is a cripple, let him have a seat!” Jisung yells, and a party of three give up their table.

“I’m not a cripple, Jisung, I’ll heal,” Minho says. Jisung pulls out a chair for him and Minho sits down, leaning his crutches on the table. They slip against the slick wood and Minho nearly falls out of his chair to catch them. Jisung looks on, snickering.

“I know,” Jisung says, pulling out a chair for himself. “I just like yelling at people.” Minho laughs and turns his attention to the stage. A girl is walking out onto the stage holding a few notecards. She steps up to the mic and taps it. The noise lowers into a soft buzz when she starts talking.

“Test, testing, okay! Hi everybody!” she shouts to enthusiastic clapping. “Welcome to the sixth poetry slam night! I hope y’all listen to these poets, ‘cause I think they’ve got a lot to say. ‘Kay, let’s get it!” There’s more clapping as she leaves the stage. Jisung’s clapping so loud, he nearly busts Minho’s eardrums.

“Excited?” Minho leans in and shouts over the noise. Jisung nods excitedly when he looks at Minho.

“Shh, it’s gonna start, look!” Jisung whispers, pointing to the stage. Minho turns, and sure enough, there’s a girl coming out onto the stage. When he sees her hands shake as she grips the mic, Minho winces and tries to will her nerves away.

As the first line leaves the girl’s lips, Minho sneaks a glance at Jisung. He looks so enraptured with the performance it makes Minho’s heart hurt. Minho strains his neck and spots the backstage curtain. He reaches for his crutches and Jisung shoots him a confused look as he stands up and situates his crutches under his armpits.

“Where you going?” Jisung whispers.

“Bathroom,” Minho mouths back. Jisung’s mouth forms an ‘o’ shape as he nods and turns back to the performance. Minho tries to duck his head as he crutches through the tables and clusters of people toward the backstage area. He stops in front of the curtain and pulls it aside and sticks his head inside.

The nearest person is a girl trying to put on some kind of sparkly eyeshadow with her nose almost touching the mirror. “Hey, uh, can someone point me to the woman in charge?” Minho says, trying to get her attention. The girl barely spares him a glance before pointing to the girl that had started the night. Minho says a ‘thank you’ that the eyeshadow girl probably ignores as he crutches his way to the girl.

“Hey, uh, excuse me?” Minho says. The girl whips around and her ponytail nearly smacks Minho in the face.

“I’m so sorry, did my hair hurt you?” she asks. Minho shakes his head and she sighs with relief. “Phew, ‘cause somebody got mad at me for that the other day, didn’t want a repeat of _that_ first date.” Minho chuckles at her joke.

“Hi, I’m Momo, nice to meet you,” she says. “I would shake your hand, but it seems a little preoccupied at the moment.” Momo gestures to Minho’s crutches and smiles. “Anyway, what can I do for you?”

“Um, is there any room in the lineup for tonight?” Minho asks. “My boyfriend wants to perform.”

Momo beckons Minho to a piece of paper taped on a pole that looks like a sign-up sheet. She trails her finger down the list. “I think we could squeeze him in at the end, people don’t really pay attention to the time this stuff ends anyway. What’s his name?” Momo grabs a pen and poises it above the paper.

“Han Jisung.”

“Great, thanks,” Momo says and scrawls Jisung’s name on the list. When she’s done she turns to Minho and narrows her eyebrows. “Wait,” she says, pointing her pen at him, “is this _the_ Han Jisung? The guy that turned poetry into rap?” Minho nods quickly.

“Oh. My. God.” Momo covers her mouth with her hands and shrieks. “Dude is a legend around here! Wonder if that squirrel remembers me,” she muses. Minho shakes his head.

“Wait, squirrel?” Minho asks even though Momo’s already walking away. “How is he – ” Minho sighs when she doesn’t answer and starts crutching away.

 _I mean, with food in his cheeks, I guess he_ does _look kinda like a squirrel,_ Minho thinks as he shoves the curtain aside. He ducks his head again as he makes his way back to Jisung.

“That took a while,” Jisung comments as Minho slides back into his seat. Minho rolls his eyes.

“The crutches kept falling over,” Minho quips. “You’re not a cripple, you wouldn’t understand.” Jisung snorts at Minho’s comeback and trains his eyes back on the performer.

“I know, but sometimes I worry about you,” Jisung whispers. Minho barely hears it, but he still smiles all the same.

~

“Was that the last one?” Jisung shouts in Minho’s ear. Both of them are clapping as a guy bows and leaves the stage to much applause.

Minho shrugs. “I think so? I’m not sure.” Jisung turns in his seat and stops clapping when Momo steps up to the mic again. Minho can’t stop himself from smiling as she lowers the mic to speak.

“Alright everybody! Having a good time?” she shouts, and the crowd roars. Minho watches Jisung cup his hands around his mouth and scream, his smile just getting bigger. _Oh, little Jisung. You have no idea what’s about to happen._

“Great, I’m glad!” Momo says into the mic. “But we’ve got one more performance for you tonight, a very, _very_ last-minute sign-up. Please welcome the one, the only, Han Jisung to the stage!”

There’s a round of applause followed by the crowd whispering, ‘that’s the kid that came up there and freaking _rapped_ , man’ and ‘legend, the guy’s an absolute _legend_.’ Minho claps along with them until he realizes that Jisung’s not walking onstage. Instead, he’s glaring at Minho like he found out Minho ate his cheesecake.

“Minho,” Jisung says under his breath. Minho gulps. He’s got to admit, with the dimmed lights, Jisung looks pretty intimidating. One might even say murderous.

“Yeah, baby?” Minho asks, adding the pet name for sugarcoating.

Jisung rolls his eyes and leans in a little closer so his hot breath fans out across Minho’s cheek. Minho shivers. “Just wanted to ask, why am I performing tonight?”

Minho sighs and looks Jisung seriously in the eye. “Look, I saw how much you loved watching everyone perform. I know that you want to go up there and tear that stage to pieces and burn this café to the ground with a performance. I just wanted you to have another chance to do what you love,” Minho finishes. He reaches for Jisung’s angrily balled up hands on the table and unfurls them, holding them in his own. “I also felt bad that the last time you were performing, you got cut short because of me.” Minho tears his eyes away from Jisung’s.

“Hey, don’t talk like that,” Jisung says. He squeezes Minho’s hands and Minho’s eyes meet Jisung’s again. “You know, as much as I love performing, I also love you too. I don’t like having to choose between the two loves of my life, but in the end, I’ll always choose you. You know that.” Jisung tilts his head and leans a little closer. Minho feels his face heat up like crazy and edges away when Jisung comes closer.

“You really mean that?” Minho asks with a raised eyebrow. Jisung blinks and nods adamantly. He swoops in and places a light kiss on Minho’s cheek before he stands up and releases Minho’s hands.

“Guess I’d better give the people what they want,” Jisung says, and winks. He pushes through the crowd toward the stage to the loudest applause of the night, leaving Minho a blushing mess as he watches his boyfriend eat up the admiration.

Jisung takes the mic and taps it for a test. “Wassup, everybody!” he shouts. Minho grins. _He really be starting off like it’s a concert,_ Minho thinks. _Only Jisung._

“Thanks for waiting so long, I had to tie my shoelace,” Jisung says, scratching the back of his neck. Minho giggles with the crowd at that. Jisung smiles when everyone laughs at his joke, which of course makes Minho smile. “Anyway, I didn’t really expect to be up here, but _apparently_ my friends like signing me up for stuff like this without telling me.” Jisung glares in Minho’s direction and the whole audience turns toward him. Minho goes along with it and pretends like he doesn’t know Jisung’s glaring at him, until he paints a surprised look on his face and points at himself like ‘who, me?’ The crowd laughs again and turns back to the stage.

“But I’m glad to be back here, because on this stage, I realized that I had what it took to go after my dream of performing,” Jisung says. He counts off on his fingers. “Determination, motivation, and most importantly, a set of BARS, you know what I’m saying?” The crowd explodes again and Jisung’s smile stretches wider.

The crowd starts chanting, “Bars! Bars! Bars!” and Minho joins in. Somehow, Jisung meets Minho’s eyes in all the chaos. Minho gives him a little nod, just a tiny push so he can start. _You were born for this, you don’t need my encouragement, you know,_ Minho thinks, even though Jisung can’t hear him.

Jisung nods and seems to grip the mic tighter. “Well, y’all asked for it!” he shouts. The crowd screams and Minho cups his hand around his mouth and screams with them. Jisung yells “So, come on! Let’s get it!”

Minho’s heart does a funny twinge when he sees a little smirk playing on Jisung’s face as he brings the mic to his lips. He has to squint when one of the lights hits Jisung’s cheek, making him radiant under its glow.

 _That’s my Jisung,_ Minho thinks as he smiles. _He’s the sun. My shining sun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end! aaaahhh how am i happy and sad at the same time? guess i had a lot of fun writing this!  
> now that it's good and done, i'd like to hear your guy's thoughts about it; this is my first chaptered fic after all. or you can comment about something random like your favorite thing to eat for breakfast. feel free to comment about skz, i love talking about our boys.  
> most of all, i hope this did the ship justice and everyone enjoyed reading it! and if you're reading this, thank you for reading.  
> hope everyone's staying safe and washing hands, and i will be back with another fic soon? who knows? (if y'all wanna read something else i write hehe)


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